Bloodkin
by chaosshotgun
Summary: [AU] While out hunting, twin brothers Eragon and Murtagh along with their cousin Roran find three stones deep in the mountains. When these turn out to be dragon eggs, the three boys are thrust into a journey that they could only dream of. Along with the village storyteller, the butcher's daughter and two mysterious girls, they begin a new legend. A retelling of Eragon.
1. The Three Hunters

**Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon and everybody else. Christopher Paolini Does.**

**A/N: The story might be a little similar to the original for a fair bit, don't burn me!**

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**Bloodkin**

**Chapter 1: The Three Hunters**

_ Brom the storyteller laid back on his chair as his three captive audience watched him in awe. He stroked his beard in amusement. "If Garrow keeps leaving you here every time he and his wife leave for Therinsford, then I will run out of stories to tell before you turn ten years old," he said with a smile. "Now, what do you want to hear about today?"_

_ The three little boys – barely six years old and with so much promise – stared at each other and smiled. The tallest one gave Brom an earnest look with his mahogany-brown eyes that seemed red unless one peered closely. "We want to hear about dragons!"_

_ Brom pursed his lips. King Galbatorix and his remaining Forsworn have forbidden any tales of dragons and their Dragon Riders, unless made them sound like good people. Brom told the truth if he could help it, though. The children before him were to young to hear about it, so he decided to make up something else and kept it close to the truth instead. "There was a young dragon named Saphira…"_

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Most tales of epic adventures and magic began in dark, stormy nights. True, it was quite cold as winter crept closer but the sky was quite clear and there was not a breath of wind. Three elves rode their noble white horses and made their way through the woods. They moved swiftly and silently – not even their flowing, silvery cloaks made any sound.

The one on the lead looked around. His long hair was as dark as night, framing a beautiful, angular face. He wore no armor, but was armed with his bow and a quiver of arrows. His deep green eyes surveyed the area around him. He had a big pack on his lap and kept checking on it, as if afraid that the contents might suddenly vanish.

The one riding a little to the left was dressed similarly, and was as beautiful as his companion. His silver hair gleamed like starlight and his deep blue eyes seemed distrustful. He wore a helm of amber and gold, and was armed with a graceful spear.

To the right was their new companion, young even by elven standards. She looked like she was in her teens, with raven hair and bright green eyes. She and the leader could have passed as siblings in a heartbeat. She was armed not only with a bow and some arrows – she also had a slim, elegant sword hanging from her belt.

A soft wind began to blow. With it was the stench of creatures and beings that did not belong to the forest. The three elves froze in their place. They stared at each other as their steeds turned the other way in a very fast pace.

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Eragon narrowed his eyes. He was kneeling beside tracks that told him about his prey. The herd of deer was there recently, and he would still have time to catch up to them and make it back to his hunting companions' camp. Night was fast approaching, and he was sure that the deer would settle down to sleep soon enough.

It was a cold and clear night, with no signs of impending bad weather. The mountains towered over him in all direction, but not enough to hide a good portion of the starry sky. Streams flowed down nearby and meant that many animals made their way to the area for a drink – and it was an advantage for hunters.

Eragon was fifteen – just a few months short of finally reaching manhood. His messy hair was a reddish-brown shade, and kept falling over his deep blue eyes. He already left his pack in the campsite, and brought only his waterskin, a bow protected by a buckskin tube, and his bone-handle knife. He and his companions were some of the few brave young men from Carvahall that braved the Spine, which was a massive mountain range that bordered Alagaesia.

Many tales of horror and the supernatural persisted around the place and it wasn't helped at all by the fact that some of the Forsworn have been reportedly sighted in some southern locations. To the people like Eragon though, hunting game deep within the area was the only way to survive.

It was bad time for hunting, as he, his brother and their cousin have already felled a number bucks during their three-day trek. Their family had enough to last them through the winter, but it wouldn't hurt to get one more. Maybe they could sell it for some extra money.

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The elves didn't make it far. There was a flash of red lights and their helmed companion fell. The black-haired male cried out something in his native tongue as the two remaining elves rode through the dark. A red-haired Shade and a band of ugly, horned Urgals emerged from the trees and ran after them. The elf lord nocked an arrow and shot blindly, hitting one of the Urgals in the eye.

"Get him!" the Shade cried out angrily. "He is the one I want."

The elf lady managed to outpace her companion and looked back in terror. "Letta orya thorna!" she cried out, stopping the Urgals' arrows.

"Ganga!" the elf lord yelled at his companion. He shot a couple of Urgals as they and the Shade began to gain on him.

The Shade smiled as he began to close the distance. "Böetq istalri!" A massive section of the forest burst into raging flames. The Shade repeated his spell a few more times until the flames circled half a league, giving the Urgals a smaller space to work with.

There were shouts and a blast of light to the east. The Shade ran towards the commotion and found the two elves surrounded. The Urgals leered at them. The elf lord kept a calm face and clutched his pack while the lady gave them a look of disdain. Their noble steed lay dead nearby. The lord held out his hand, as if offering it to the Urgals, and frantically uttered words of power.

In outrage, the Shade bared his teeth and uttered something under his breath. Red light flew toward the elf lord. There was a flash of deep green light and the contents elf lord's pack vanished, except for a green stone that fell down to his feet. The lady grabbed it as the lord fell to the ground and lost consciousness. Before anybody could respond, she let out a piercing shriek. "Jierda theirra kalfis!" The Urgals staggered backward in pain, leaving only the unfazed Shade. The abomination barely showed signs of injury. The elf bounded off into the night.

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Eragon found himself in a glen, using the shadows and trees to conceal himself. The sound of flowing water could be heard nearby. The deer were starting to retire for the night. Pleased, Eragon pulled out an arrow and nocked it. He spotted a plump doe at the very edge of the herd and prepared to shoot it, when there was a loud explosion.

The deer bolted off. Cursing, Eragon ran after the deer and ignored the searing hot wind that caressed his cheek. He fired an arrow and missed by a very small margin. The deer bounded into the darkness, leaving him far behind. Angry and disappointed, wheeled around to the source of the explosion while nocking another arrow.

There was a large, charred circle in the center of the area. The grass where the deer lay and the trees that Eragon used for cover have been burnt. Some of the trees survived with just a few burnt off leaves, but many of them were too damaged. His eyes gravitated towards the center of the field, where strange, colorful smoke still danced in the slight breeze. Three polished oval stones sat on the ground. They were of different colors – vibrant blue, shimmering red, and a rich violet.

After making sure that it was perfectly safe, Eragon moved forward cautiously. He used an arrow to poke the blue stone. These objects were not something that nature could have polished. He picked up one of the stones and gazed at it in marvel. The shade was a brighter blue than that of his eyes, with white veins running down its length. It was at least a foot long. He glanced at the other stones and also picked them up. Might as well as bring something interesting to the camp if he had nothing else to bring with him. Maybe they could even trade for meat when they got back home.

He knew his way around the general area but couldn't help checking the stars every now and then. The darkness seemed more sinister after that night and he would feel better once he had company. He stumbled through thickets and crossed a couple of streams as the mone shone above him. He finally reached the camp, and groaned when he realized that his companions were already seated by the fire and tending to it. Did he really take that long?

His twin brother Murtagh and their cousin Roran waited for him with expectant looks. Murtagh stood up. "So what did you shoot today, oh mighty hunter?" he asked with a smile. He looked almost exactly like his brother, except for the fact that he was a little on the lean side and had mahogany-colored eyes that seemed red at first glance.

"Seems like he's empty-handed," their cousin Roran said. He raised an eyebrow as his violet eyes gave him a long look.

Eragon moved nearer and showed them the three stones. "Look here," he said. He set down the oval, foot-long stones for the other two to see and sat beside his brother. "They just… appeared when I was out hunting. Startled the deer too."

"Appeared?" Murtagh crossed his arms and picked up the red one. He passed it over to Roran and checked out the blue one. "Are you talking about magic? Was it that explosion we heard? We were debating about checking it out but Roran here insisted that it might have had nothing to do with you. Seems like we were wrong."

"To be honest, I have no idea what happened. You think I was meant to have it?" Eragon asked.

Roran narrowed his eyes as he put down the red stone and picked up the violet one. "Magic, it must be. I'm sure this has a purpose but you could have found it totally by accident." He narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what these do but we can try selling them."

"Whatever we're supposed to do about those stones, we really have to eat and get some rest already. It's a long way to Carvahall," Murtagh said with a smile.


	2. The Place Called Home

**Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon and everyone, except some OC's which will pop up soon. Christopher Paolini does.**

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**Chapter 2: The Place Called Home**

It was a warm and glorious morning. The sky was a mix of pinks and golds, and birds were singing on the treetops. If he was at home, Eragon would have wanted to sleep i.. It would have amused Roran and Murtagh. Since they were to start their trek back to the village though, he sat up and brushed the sleep off his eyes.

After a quick breakfast of bread and cheese, the three boys broke their camp. They decided to bring along the stones. Eragon had the blue one in his pack, Murtagh brought the red and Roran stuck with the violet one. The made their way to the game trail – the fastest way out of the Spine.

The wild mountains may have had its fair share of rumors about the six remaining Forsworn flying their dragons through the southern areas, but it is still widely accepted that it is one of the last few places that Galbatorix truly hasn't claimed. There were talks of his army marching through it and only half of them making it out. Many nasty accidents have befallen people who traversed it, and the village butcher's wife died there too. Though Eragon, Murtagh and Roran had been hunting in the place since they were thirteen, they managed to stay relatively unharmed through their constant vigilance.

Carvahall was two and a half days' worth of hard traveling. On the first night, they camped by the Anora River and stocked up on water. It was rushing steadily towards their destination – Palancar Valley – and the water was cool and crisp.

The second day was uneventful, and by noon on the third day, they spotted the thundering Igualda Falls far away from them after making their way through some cliffs. The trail at this point was a little moist and slippery, but the three boys were used to it. Murtagh paused to admire the view. "We've been making our way through this place by years but I never ever appreciated this place. It's just so… wild."

"True, that. It's hard to appreciate something that has taken so many lives though." Roran hefted his pack.

Palancar Valley lay before them, the colors bright and sharp in the early afternoon sun. The Igualda Falls marked the northernmost point of the valley, with Carvahall nested nearby. They could see the smoke curling from the chimneys and the farm patches. The Anora River ran to the southern edge of the Valley, to Therinsford – which was the only other settlement in the valley – and the lone mountain named Utgard.

Together, the three boys made their way through the last leg of the trail. They made it to Carvahall at nightfall, as they took more time than they really should due to tiredness. The buildings in the village were made of sturdy logs, with low, thatched roofs. Some of the newer ones were shingled though. Smoke was curling from most chimneys. Some of the wide porches were occupied with villagers generally chatting. Some of them waved at the boys.

The village had a close-knit community where everyone knew everybody else. And in a village like this, most people had the signature dark brown hair and eyes that made the three boys stand out with their more reddish hair and the vivid hues of their eyes. They were quite known among the girls who were interested with their unique looks.

"Do you think we could sell the stones for more meat?" Eragon asked excitedly.

"I think we should hold on to them for a while," Murtagh said. If Eragon acted before he thought, his twin brother was the opposite. "They may fetch a prize but things from the Spine might make people feel reluctant."

"I'm sure father would agree with you and besides, we might get a better deal with the traders," Roran said. "C'mon then, I'm sure he'll be glad that we had a good haul this time."

The three passed by the butcher's shop, where the owner was having a loud argument with his daughter. Roran stiffened as he gave his cousins a nervous look. He harbored a secret crush on Katrina, the butcher's only daughter, though he snapped at his cousins whenever they joked about it.

It was a rare sight to see father and daughter argue. The butcher sloan, a bitter widower with a meaty body and receding dark hair, doted on Katrina so much. It was another reason why Roran was afraid to actually approach and court the beautiful girl. He treated everybody with contempt and probably viewed the three farmboys as nothing more than something rotten on his spoiled meat. It frustrated Roran and Eragon a lot, but Murtagh loved to rile up the butcher every now and then.

"This is my life, father!" Katrina's voice rang out in the cold, crisp night air. She was clutching something close to her. Even in the faint torchlights, her radiant face stood out. Her deep brown hair and silvery eyes seemed to flicker. "I'm quite sure that I should have something to say when it comes to keeping the things that mother wanted me to have!"

"It came from the Spine!" roared Sloan. He raised a hand, as if prepared to slap his daughter, but apparently thought better of it. "Who knows what it actually is?"

"It's a stone." Katrina sniffed. "You should think about what evil things stones can do." She turned and stalked into the butcher's shop.

The three stared at each other as they continued on their way through the village. They passed by Horst, the blacksmith. The muscular man stopped in the middle of smoothing his black beard and waved at the three. "Good evening, boys! Welcome back! How was the trip?"

Eragon smiled. "It was the best haul we've ever had," he bragged.

"Good to hear. Well, you better get going." Horst beamed. "Elaine would be mad if I don't hurry up too. Besides, Garrow would probably be worrying about you now."

"True, father always fidgets when one of us is so far away," Roran agreed with a smile. His father, Garrow, had brought up Eragon and Murtagh like his sons too, and so the three boys were as close as real brothers.

They bade him goodbye and walked on. They soon left the warm lights of the village and followed the road, passing through elms and making their way through the hill. The inviting lights of their home loomed before them, and the boys visibly relaxed. Smoke curled up from the chimney that jutted out of the shingled roof. Farm tools and firewood littered the porch.

It had been their home since they were eight, when Garrow's wife, Marian, died. It had been abandoned for at least a century before that. People told them that it would be difficult to find help during emergencies as it was ten miles away from the village but Garrow did not listen at all.

Noises came from the barn, and Eragon felt himself smile. It felt like the horses – Birka and Brugh – along with five chickens and their cow, were also waiting for their arrival. They sometimes had a pig too, but they couldn't afford one that year.

A light moved by a window. The three boys stared at each other and nudged Roran forward. "Father," the eldest said happily. "We're home."

A small shutter slid back for a moment, and then the door swung open. A tall, thin man smiled at the three boys. His clothes were too loose for him and looked more like rags. His graying hair was a mess, as if he had just gotten up from his bed. "Welcome home, boys. Come in, it's cold out there," he told them.

On a table, a lamp provided light for the entire room. A second door led to the rest of the house. The wooden floor barely made a sound as they moved through the house. Eragon set down the bags of meat that they managed to get from the deer they hunted down for three days. "We have enough for the winter, Uncle," he said.

Garrow smiled proudly. He had raised Eragon and Murtagh since they were born, and they were like sons to him. Eragon knew that he and his brother loved him like a father too. "Well then, you better rest for now, we have a lot of things to do tomorrow."

Eragon hesitated and glanced at the two before hanging his bow and quiver on their hooks near the front door. "We also found some things in the Spine. They could be worth some money too," he said quickly. He pulled out the blue stone from his pack. Murtagh and Roran followed him quickly, bringing out the red and violet stones respectively.

Garrow peered at the stones with a slightly hungry look and he listened as Eragon narrated the events leading to their appearance. Then he straightened up. "How's the weather?"

"A little cold," Murtagh said. "There's no snow yet but it's freezing at night."

"It won't be long now though," added Roran. "The springs are getting icy."

"Well then, that settles it. We need to start harvesting the barley tomorrow. We'll be fine through the winter if we get the squash picked too. Keep those stones, we'll see what they're worth when the traders arrive. We probably need to sell them as soon as possible though, we need to keep away from magic." Garrow smiled. "You should rest now. It's a long day tomorrow."

The three boys nodded and headed to the room that they have shared since childhood. Eragon felt exhausted all of a sudden, and assumed that it was because of finally being home. _Home…_ He felt another smile coming up.

The bright rays of the early morning sun caressed Eragon's face. He opened his eyes and yawned. He saw his brother and cousin still asleep on their own beds, and he sat up. The three stones they found were sitting on one of a row of shelves that contained the little treasures that the boys have collected through the years. Odd bits of wood, grass, shells and stones with shiny interiors were just some of them. All of those paled in comparison to the stones from the Spine, and Eragon vaguely thought that it would be a shame to sell them off.

He felt odd. It was the day, roughly sixteen years ago, when his mother Selena came to visit her brother Garrow after disappearing for years. She was alone and heavily pregnant. She wore expensive clothing and yet begged her brother to let her stay until she gave birth to twins five months later. She was driven to tears as she asked Garrow and his wife Marian, who in turn had just given birth to Roran days before, to take care of her children. Though baffled, the couple agreed as they saw her distress, and she left the following morning. Nobody ever heard from her again.

Eragon could still remember the day that his Aunt Marian told him the story, a few days before she died. He and his brother were deeply upset when they found out that Garrow and Marian were not their real parents and yet, they also felt grateful for their upbringing. Though Murtagh kept telling him that maybe it was their own good, Eragon countered that maybe they just were not good enough for their real mother. Then again, maybe there was a good reason for everything that happened to the two of them.

The only thing that the two boys kept debating even after all those years was about the identity of their father. Selena told no one about who it might be, and as far as Garrow knew, she was not married. Whoever he was, he never bothered to come and search for them, anyway.

"Good morning," Murtagh said groggily. "You're up early? I usually have to throw pillows just to wake you up!"

Though it would have meant a friendly scuffle on other days, Eragon just shrugged. "I was just wondering again, is all."

"Oh, her." Murtagh's face darkened. He was the one who was brooding, so it usually surprised him to see Eragon in such a mood. The two had always been a contrast, with cautious, quiet Murtagh and adventurous, outgoing Eragon.

"Yeah, today's that day," noted Eragon. He stood up, the pinewood floor cold to his feet. "Well, you better wake Roran. We have a lot to do today."

The next few days were spent in the fields. As the weather became colder, the three boys helped their uncle in storing and preparing their crop and meat for the winter. It was hard work, but it felt good to be able to do something. Eragon felt uneasy though, and his mind strayed to the stones they found. He was sure that Murtagh and Roran felt the same. He couldn't wait for the traders to arrive and yet he was also nervous about parting ways with the stone.

After a particularly bad blizzard, winter came and with it, the traders.


	3. Night of the Dragons

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own everyone in this story aside from some OC's in the future**

To the anon reviewers (or is it just one?) thank you! I'm not sure if anybody else tried out this angle before and no, I'm not from Australia, sadly. I'm quite far from it though my grandfather used to work there. :D

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**Chapter 3: Night of the Dragons**

The three boys woke up with excitement when Garrow announced the arrival of the traders. They quickly helped him load their excess produce on two wagons. It was a bountiful year, and they might earn a little more than usual. Eragon carefully wrapped the three stones and set them between bags of grain to make sure that they would not fall off if the wagon hits a bump. After harnessing the horses, they made their way to the village.

Carvahall was usually lively, but that day it was happier than usual. On the outskirts of the village, the traders have set up camp. The bright tents and wagons can be easily spotted even from a distance, and Eragon knew that Murtagh was itching to talk to some pretty trader girls. The four troubadour tents were brighter than usual, with torches surrounding them. They would light up brightly that night. Many people were already walking to and from the village. Cooking delicacies made Eragon sniff appreciatively.

"You're always hungry," Roran noted with a smile.

Eragon grumbled as they passed through someone who was offering roasted corn on a cob. They passed through a few more crowds until they reached their destination. The traders looked a little too wary, with torn clothes and weapons slung on their belts. He almost bumped against Roran as they followed their uncle in the search for Merlock, a trader of jewelry and trinkets. They found him displaying some brooches to a group of girls. Katrina, the butcher's daughter, stood behind them with a look of uncertainty.

She turned to look at the newcomers and smiled sadly. She was a pretty girl, and the three boys used to argue over her when they were younger. "I didn't expect you to be here," she said gently.

"Uh, we're actually here to – er – sell something and…" Roran began, eliciting sniggers from his cousins.

At that moment, the group before them finally left. Garrow smiled at Katrina. "Well then, young lady, you better go first. We'll wait here for our turn." He glanced pointedly at Murtagh as he noticed him about to protest.

Katrina flashed them a smile and brought out a stone from the pouch. It wasn't just a stone – it looked like the stones that the boys found in the Spine, except for the fact that it was a vivid silvery shade. She walked towards Merlock – a tall, goateed man. The trader regarded her with a cautions smile.

"Good morning, young lady. Are you looking for an amulet, or maybe a beautiful trinket to complement those lovely eyes?" he asked.

"I'm actually here to – to sell," Katrina said nervously. "It's a stone, a gift from my mother before she left us. My father wishes to have it sold. He wants to forget her." She held out the silver stone with shaky hands.

Merlock raised an eyebrow as he took it. He noticed Garrow and the boys standing nearby. "Oh, and are you here to buy something?" he asked.

"We're actually here to sell too," Garrow said quickly. He eyed the silver stone and motioned for the three boys. "Just some things that my boys here have found."

Roran walked forward, carrying the pack that contained the stones. He opened it and showed them to Merlock. "I think they're similar to what Katrina has shown you," he said quietly.

Merlock gave the pack a thoughtful look as he gave the silver stone back to Katrina. "All of these stones do seem similar. I cannot appraise them here, maybe we should continue this elsewhere. I have some tools that will help us back in my tent."

"That would be fine," agreed Garrow.

"Fine by me," murmured Katrina. She still looked a little uneasy.

Merlock placed his wares inside a chest and locked it quickly. He motioned for the group to follow him, and they wound through the crowd. As they walked, Eragon found himself walking beside his brother and Katrina. "The night when we returned from our hunting trip, you were arguing with Sloan. Is that what it was about?" Murtagh asked bluntly.

"Look, don't tell anybody else – well, maybe except Roran – but my mother is alive. She left father five years ago and recently came to visit only me. She was bringing this stone and gave it to me and then left again." Katrina looked down. "My father was… angry… when he found out."

"And yet, you wanted to keep it." Murtagh gave her a long look.

"It was from my mother." Katrina said it as if it was a highly obvious answer.

At that exact moment, they reach a crimson and black tent that had a few other colors woven in it. There were so many curious items within, such as jeweled daggers and rings on the long table and a vivid green blade lying on the circular bed. Merlock picked up a plain black box and set it down on the table. He picked out some tools and set to work examining the four stones. He weighed them and tried scratched their surfaces with a small, clear stone. Eragon suspected that it was a diamond. Merlock proceeded to tap it lightly with a wooden hammer and then measured its surface. "Do you have an idea about how much these stones are worth?"

"Er, actually, I'm clueless." Katrina blushed and smiled.

Garrow nodded in agreement. "The lass is right, I don't know how much these stones are actually worth."

Merlock clucked his tongue. He set down the red stone that he was holding in disappointment. "Neither do I, unfortunately." He paused thoughtfully as he regarded the five of them. "I'm not sure about what this stone is made of, but it's strong. It can withstand a diamond's scratches and a diamond is very hard, mind you. It might even be made of magic – oh, and it's hollow."

"It's… what?" Eragon blurted out.

"Shush, brother," Roran said in a disappointed voice.

"Well, listen to this." Merlock picked up a small, ruby-adorned dagger and tapped the nearest stone – Katrina's – with its flat edge. A high, clear note resounded for a moment before fading away. Katrina was about to object when Roran held her back and shook his head. Merlock showed them the totally undamaged stone. "It doesn't seem susceptible to any damage."

"Well, our stones appeared in the Spine, as if by magic," Eragon murmured thoughtfully.

Murtagh rubbed his chin. "Yes, these could have been made by magic, but there must be some purpose behind it."

"How much is its worth?" Roran asked bluntly.

"To be truthful, I have no idea," answered Merlock. He scratched his head good-naturedly. "Some people in the southern dwellings will pay a lot for even just one of these though. I could take them with me and find you a buyer but it is not a sure thing and you will not be paid until we return next winter so you may have to find a different buyer. Besides, we might get attacked by bandits and Urgals once again. I might not survive to return next year. Strange things are happening, and these stones may only be one part of a bigger whole."

With that, Merlock bade goodbye to his potential clients. Eragon shared a disappointed look with Murtagh and Roran as they followed their uncle out of the tent. Katrina seemed smugly happy though. Garrow looked disappointed, but not as much as the boys expected him to be. "It can't be helped I guess. Put those stones back to the wagon," he said as he gave the boys some coins to spend. "You can go do what you want afterwards but be sure not to be late for dinner at Horst's, understand?"

The three boys nodded and bounded off to the wagon. Trading was a long, boring affair. It took up a lot of time that could be spent wandering around. With Katrina tagging along with them, they hid the three stones under some empty flour bags and went wandering off.

They spent their time chatting away and spending their meager coins for food. Roran was mostly silent though he shot Katrina a few glances every few minutes. The topics ranged from Merlock's strange words to whether potatoes taste better in pies or in stews. By the time they began to head towards Morn's tavern to check if Brom the storyteller was there, the conversation steered towards Katrina's mother.

"What did happen to her?" Eragon asked. "Why did she leave?"

"She left a few weeks after my tenth birthday." Katrina frowned as she tightened her hold on the pouch containing her silver stone. "She had an argument about my father forgetting his duty or something similar to that."

"What if she joined the Varden? Or became a sorceress?" Eragon asked goofily before his brother thwacked the back of his head. "Hey!"

"Your imagination never fails to amaze me," Murtagh said dryly. "Though it is possible."

"Do you honestly believe that this is made of magic? Like those stones you found in the Spine?" Katrina asked slowly. "I mean, magic. It's something only special people can use and we should stay away from it in particular."

"Maybe they do mean something. They might have a purpose that we can't understand just yet." Roran shrugged, finally breaking his silence. "You know, maybe we should show them to Brom if we find him in the tavern. Maybe he could dig up some folklore related to them. I'm sure he will be good with that."

"Brom always tells the same stories," Eragon complained. "I'm sure he won't find one that can explain these stones. That's why I want to watch the troubadours tonight. Maybe they can even tell us some real stories about Dragon Riders."

Morn's tavern was a little smoky from the candles but was pleasantly warm. Twisted, black Urgal horns were mounted above the door, as long as the Eragon's outstretched arms. They have always fascinated him and wondered if they really were from Urgals. Inside, the oak doors and the bar were crowded with villagers and traders chatting and doing business. Morn, the bartender with a short and slightly mashed-looking face, was wiping a glass behind the bar and smiled at the newcomers. "Good to see the four of you together again! Where's Garrow?"

"He's still busy with buying and selling things," Murtagh said. He grinned at Morn, who used to let him help around in cleaning and brewing. "He'll take a while, we had a lot of harvest this year."

"Oh, that's good to hear," agreed Morn. He nodded to Roran. "Seems like nothing held you back this year."

"No sick animals to tend to this year," agreed Roran. He had always been the one who was good with the animals in the farm. "Last year was torturous, I thought that the chickens wouldn't survive for another few hours."

Eragon noticed two unfamiliar traders who were sipping beer while in the middle of telling a story. Some of the villagers were watching them, and a number of them had outright dislike etched on their faces. "Who are they?"

Morn made a face. "Grain traders. Those bastards bought everyone's seed at a ridiculously low price when we need the money to get by another year and the stories they tell are just preposterous. And they expect us to believe them? Bah!"

"Stories?" Eragon glanced at Roran and Murtagh. The looked as curious as he felt.

"Outrageous ones," Morn replied through gritted teeth. He shot the traders a dirty look. "Well, they claim that the Varden has struck a deal with the Urgals and their armies are strong enough to attack us. They say that King Galbatorix and his six Forsworn are the only ones who can protect us. It's not like the king actually cares about our welfare."

"I haven't heard of people who outright support the Empire before," Katrina mused quietly. "I mean, it's like everyone in Carvahall hates the King and his blasted Riders."

"Hush, they might hear you," Roran said quickly. He turned red upon realizing that he was talking to Katrina. "Though to be honest, most of us here would jump at the chance to join the Varden and strengthen the rebellion."

The sun was setting and it would be time to go to Horst's house soon. Eragon sighed. "The Varden constantly raids and attacks the Empire. But I'm sure that they won't strike up a deal with monsters like Urgals."

"Ugly, the way those men keep going," Morn said over the angry voices of villagers against the traders. "If this goes on longer, it will be trouble."

"For us or for them?" Murtagh asked with a smirk.

Morn's face darkened. "Them." As if on cue, the argument in the tavern became violent. The bartender made a face as he strode towards the arguing group.

The four left the tavern as the fight seemed to turn ugly. "That was something," Katrina said in an apparent attempt to hide the fact that she was shaken too.

After the hearty dinner at Horst's where the host and the guests had so much to share, Eragon led the way to the traders' camp. The snow at night felt magical, and Eragon could almost imagine dragons flying in the sky. Since the king and his Forsworn are the only Riders still left, seeing a dragon in the sky would have meant doom. Candle-topped poles circled a clearing and bonfires created beautiful dancing shadows. Villagers have surrounded the circle in excitement and Eragon felt himself shiver.

The first ones to present were the minstrels that accompanied the traders. Accompanied by poems and songs, they wove stories that ranged from the funny to the more wondrous kinds. As the energy began to fade, everybody gave way to Carvahall's storyteller, Brom.

There were rumors that Brom was far older than he seemed. He was tall and proud, with black hair that was graying. His red-brown eyes twinkled merrily as he patted down his cloak and began his tale of the Riders – the war between the dragons and the elf Eragon who became the first of the Riders, the day when humans joined their ranks thanks to the two riders named Murtagh and Roran. Eragon was amazed. It seemed like the brothers and their cousin were actually named after legendary people

As the night wore on, Brom spoke of the Rider named Galbatorix who lost his dragon to an Urgal and learned dark magic from a Shade to steal a black dragon named Shruikan. He, together with thirteen Riders called the Forsworn have decimated the old and revered order and striking down the leader of the Riders, Vrael.

As the story ended, Brom shuffled away with what seemed to be a tear in his eye. Garrow clucked his town disapprovingly behind Eragon. "I've only heard that twice in my life. You're lucky. Brom might not be so. If the Empire catches the news that he spoke of it, he will be executed.

After bidding goodbye to Katrina, the three boys followed their uncle back to their home. They turned in early, setting the stones back to their places in the shelves. They didn't sleep much longer that night though.

In the dead of the night, Eragon was roused from his sleep by Murtagh. He could hear strange squeaking sounds. His twin brother's reddish eyes were wide with fear. He put a finger to his lips, signalling for Eragon to be quiet. Roran stood over the shelves, where the sound was emanating from. The three stones were squeaking and shaking.

In fear that they might fall off, the three boys set the stones down on the floor and knelt by them. The stones began to rock back and forth, as if by unison. "I don't care about what father says, we have to bury those!" Roran hissed.

Once those words escaped his lips, cracks appeared on the smooth surface of the stones. A few minutes passed with the boys standing together in terror and confusion. At the top of the stones, where most of the cracks converged, small pieces wobbled and fell off. After a few long squeaks, creatures began to emerge. The boys realized that they were gazing upon eggs. The creatures finally moved out of their eggs while licking off the membrane around them.

"Goodness," Murtagh breathed in surprise. "Dragons!"

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**A/N: I'm getting 120+ hits and only 2 reviews? It only takes a few seconds at most, I do appreciate feedback! ;)**


	4. Dawn of a New Age

**Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in Alagaesia except for future OC's. If I did then Eragon would've ended up with Arya or something.**

**I really do apologize for any flaws in this chapter and basically writing down Eragon's conversation with Brom but I was having so much fun! I was upset when CP killed him off!**

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**Dawn of a New Age**

The elven lady – the only one who escaped the Shade's wrath – finally reached the southern caverns late at night. She was exhausted beyond measure, but she had been tasked with one thing upon reporting to the queen of the three missing eggs. She was to report the events to the people in that place. She brought the egg that her brother did not manage to transport, and the one which was left behind in their city.

The people in the caves were her allies, though she only met them once before. She certainly never met the girl who was accompanying her through the tunnel before. The girl was beautiful in the human way, with silky dark skin that was enhanced by her dress of deep gold. Her eyes were a strange amber shade that the elf had never seen before. The two of them appeared to be of the same age – nearing womanhood in human terms and yet must be considered children among the elves.

"I hope you don't mind me asking," the human girl said softly. "But I was wondering if you could let me see the eggs. I've never seen one before."

"Oh, you haven't?" the elf said in surprise. As a young elf, she had no practice in hiding her feelings well yet. She thought that those eggs have been passed around to everybody who was old enough. "At least you have met my brother, have you not?"

"Yes, I've met him, Lady. My father does not want me to go near those eggs, though." The girl smiled meekly. "What he doesn't know won't hurt, right?"

The elf smiled. She liked that girl. "Oh, yes. I've said that many times before," she agreed. She opened the pouch that she was clutching and they stopped walking. Two eggs were nestled snugly inside – one a bright emerald green and the other a startling gold. She picked up the gold one and handed it to the girl. She picked up the green one when she heard a loud crack. The two eggs were cracking. "Put that egg down!" she barked.

"W-what? But why?" the human asked in confusion.

"They're hatching! You have to let that hatch," the elf said quickly as she set down the emerald egg. The human girl luckily followed her instructions. "You know what to do when that gold dragon emerges, am I correct?"

* * *

The dragons were barely bigger than an average cat but they somehow seemed dignified and noble. Their scales were the same brilliant colors as that of their eggs – vivid sapphire, rich amethyst and bright ruby. They looked and sniffed around the room while the three boys watched in awe. They fanned their wings, which were at least thriceas long as their body and ribbed with bones that resembled talons. They had vaguely triangular heads and two little fangs jutted out of their upper jaws. They also had slightly serrated claws that made Eragon wonder if they were as sharp as they looked like. Small spikes lined the base of their heads, down the spines and to the tips of the tails. Observing the nearest one, Eragon could see a small hollow spot where its neck and shoulders joined.

"They're – they're beautiful," Roran said quietly.

The dragons moved towards the three boys. The ruby one stood before Murtagh, nibbling at his pant leg. The amethyst dragon sniffed and chirped at Roran. The sapphire dragon stood before Eragon with a curious tilt of the head. As if by instinct, the boys touched the respective dragons standing before them with their right hands.

Eragon cried out in pain and surprise. A pain unlike any other hit him, both extremely hot and impossibly cold. The pain began to engulf his body. The seconds seemed like agonizing hours and at last, it was over. Body tingling as warmth seeped through it, Eragon fell back on his bed with his left hand tight on his right arm and he saw the pale faces of Roran and Murtagh. They were both clutching their right arms and looked like they were in pain.

"My arm feels numb," Eragon said breathlessly. "What was that all about?"

Murtagh was staring at his palm with wide eyes. "Look at your hands."

The skin on his right palm was shimmering, forming a silvery, spiral, dragon-shaped mark that itched like a bite. Before he could make sense of what happened, something brushed against the threads of his consciousness, solidifying into one curious thought. He stared at the sapphire dragon who began rubbing its head against his leg. It felt as if some barrier in his mind vanished and he could use his thoughts to reach out. He recoiled upon realizing that it might make he might gain the ability to leave his body too, never to return.

The tendril of thought touched him again, impressing upon him the notion of hunger. Eragon gazed at Roran and Murtagh in wide eyes. "The dragons… they can – can…"

"Speak to our minds. Sort of." Roran rubbed his head. "They're hungry, aren't they?"

"Dragons are dangerous but these are babies… We can't just let them starve. Wait here, I'll go get them some food. We have an excess this year anyway." Murtagh got to his feet and darted off. He was the silent walker after all.

The three dragons yipped as they clambered to the windowsill and watched the moon. Another tendril of thought passed brushed through Eragon's head – the feeling that these weren't the only dragons born that night.

* * *

Katrina stared at the strange creature which hatched from her stone. She was sure that the stone wasn't a stone at all, but an egg. She was also sure that the creature was a dragon. After causing a major panic when it touched her and that strange silvery dragon symbol appeared on her hand, it managed to worm its way into her mind. She instantly knew that it was hungry and stole into their shop to get the dragon something to eat.

She was thankful for the fact that her father won't be home until the following day. Sloan had a habit of getting himself horribly drunk when the traders came into town and stayed at Morn's tavern until the ale was out of his system. He would have ordered her to kill the dragon, and she wouldn't be able to do that. She couldn't. It was so noble. She wondered vaguely if her three friends' stones were dragon eggs and if they hatched too.

The silver dragon chirped as it finished its food. Katrina rubbed its forehead. She would have to conceal it in the forest and visit it when she gathered herbs daily. It couldn't stay in her house – not with her father living with her.

* * *

The dragons ate the food that Murtagh brought as quickly as they could. They crawled up to the boy they have chosen and squeaked in contentment. Eragon stared at the sapphire dragon in his arms and felt himself smile. He would never let harm come to – to his dragon. "There our dragons now, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are. I guess we're Dragon Riders now. We're going to raise them." Murtagh stared at his ruby dragon. "If we're discovered though, we'll be forced to join the king if we don't want to be executed."

"We'll face that when it comes," Eragon countered. "We could… uh…"

"Raise them in secret." Roran looked a little scared. "We can't let father find out, he might ask us to kill them. I'm sure you both agree that we can't let that happen. I say we build them some shelter in the wood and bring them some food until they learn how to fend for themselves."

When Eragon woke up at dawn, he felt strangely euphoric. The gem-like dragons were standing on the three boys' bedposts, as if welcoming the new day. They were humming in contentment. Eragon's dragon chirped and spread its wings, gliding towards what appears to be its Rider. It licked Eragon's palm before he picked it up. The two other dragons also happily greeted their Riders, who also picked them up.

"Are you ready?" Murtagh asked quietly.

"As ready as can be," Eragon replied. His dragon chirped in approval and nuzzled him again. "My dragon seems to be ready too."

Roran just smiled and led the way out of their room. The boys gathered big piles of rags, leather strips and meat. Since it was still early, Garrow was still asleep and wouldn't be awake until the sun has risen. Besides, he wouldn't suspect a thing. The three usually went for walks in the forest before having their breakfast. The three dragons squeaked and chirped, as if trying to communicate to each other.

They found a cluster of rowan trees in a clearing that they themselves discovered a couple of years back. It had enough space to create a shelter for their dragons and give them a place to walk on. They created a leather harness for their dragons' legs and let them explore the immediate area. They set to building a crude high in one tree's branches to give their dragons a place to live in. They padded the hut with rags to keep it warm. More rags for a bed and stashes of meat were also left inside.

"Think this will hold?" Roran asked skeptically.

"Seems tough enough," Eragon said with a grin. He clambered down and waited for the two other boys to join him. He picked up his dragon and raised it to the branches. "This is your new home for now."

The three dragons clambered into the hut and blinked at their riders. "Stay here," Roran told them, like a mother hen talking to newborn chicks. He groaned as the dragons blinked and stared at his cousins. "I'm not sure that they could understand me that way. Maybe we should try… whatever it was that they did to communicate with us last night."

Eragon closed his eyes and tried to focus on reaching out to his dragon's consciousness again. As that feeling of openness passed through him again, he tried to impress one thought on the dragon. _Stay here, you understand? Stay here. It's not safe._ Understanding and acknowledgement came from the dragon and made Eragon doubt that it's just an animal. It seemed so much more. _I promise to visit you a lot, okay?_

That was when Katrina emerged from the trees, bringing her large herb basket. She looked nervous as she regarded the three boys. "What are you doing here?" she asked quickly.

"We could ask you the same thing," Eragon retorted.

"Peace," Murtagh said in his deepening voice. "I'm sorry for the way my brother acted, he's just exhausted because he wasn't able to sleep properly last night."

As if on cue, the dragons peeked from the hut and chirped. Katrina almost jumped out of her skin and stared at them with wide, silver eyes. "D-dragons? You have dragons too?"

Roran gave his cousins a warning look. "Yes, but we can't tell anyone, you understand?" he said fiercely. It didn't matter if he had a thing for the girl. He had to protect his family, and that was something that he always told everyone.

Something silver peeked out of Katrina's basket – a silver dragon. The creature chirped and struggled to reach its peers. "We can't tell anyone," she echoed sadly. "So yours were eggs too, then."

"That seems to be the case," Roran agreed. "We had to find a place to let them live in, somewhere we could visit them everyday. You could – could let your dragon stay with ours too if you want to."

Katrina smiled and let her dragon crawl up to her arm. She held it still as Murtagh fashioned a harness for its leg too using some spare leather and she let it climb to meet the others of its kind. The four dragons squeaked happily.

"You should tell it to stay. Talk to it with your mind," Murtagh urged.

Katrina took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Silence enveloped the clearing for a few seconds. She opened her eyes and smiled sadly. "I hate to say this but we better leave for now."

As they went on their way home, the dragons stuck their heads out of their hut and watched them. Eragon felt bad for leaving it behind like that and he knew that all three of them felt the same way. The three quickly buried the egg fragments as they reached their home and were relieved to know that the existence of those same eggs faded from their Garrow's thoughts once he found out that it couldn't be sold. After all, it would mean that they are just additions to the boys' growing collection of odd items.

Garrow mentioned about some noises in the night as they ate breakfast and luckily did not pursue the issue. Eragon was pleased to know that the mark on his palm was easy to hide and the worry faded away from his mind easily.

A couple of hours before dinnertime, the boys met up with Katrina, who was to fetch Sloan from Morn's tavern afterwards. They headed for the woods, bringing some sausages that Katrina volunteered to supply. Eragon wondered if she did it out of spite, as it could be considered stealing from her father. He was also nervous. Were the dragons strong enough to survive? It was a particularly harsh winter, after all.

It seemed like he wasted his time worrying. The dragons were perched on their own branches, nibbling on something. They all squeaked as they saw the four young Riders and glided down the tree. Katrina set down the sausages and the dragons raced towards the food. While they began to eat with happy chirps, Eragon checked their shelter. Feathers and nibbled bones were scattered all around it but it was otherwise unharmed.

He clambered down gingerly. "They could fend for themselves. I mean, they can hunt for their own food. I found bones and feathers up there," he said.

"Oh, thank goodness! It would be hard to sneak out food everyday for each of those, especially if they grow up to be as large as the legends say," Katrina said breathlessly. Her silver dragon rubbed its face against her leg. "I wonder if we could find out about their genders?"

Murtagh bluntly picked up his dragon and held it upside down, ignoring its protest. "No defining mark, sadly." He put down his dragon, which growled in displeasure. "Sorry, little guy. I just wanted to know if you're a he or a she. Seems like you won't give up your secrets that easily." The dragon gave him a smug look.

They picked up their dragons and explored the woods, trying to use their mind-speaking and regular speech to teach them more about the forest. None of them were sure about how much the dragons could comprehend but at least they tried. They talked about their lives and the people from Carvahall. Eragon couldn't help but stare at the dragons in wonder. Why would these dragons choose four lowly children from a remote city? There were many great lords and warriors from the Varden. When they left the dragons behind back in their huts, the dragons watched them with indignant eyes.

The four young Riders quickly formed a routine. Since it was normal for them to go to the woods in the morning, they just had to wake up earlier to spend more time with their dragons. They also visited in the afternoon if they were free. The dragons grew steadily. By the time the week ended, it was taller than their Riders' knees. They had to build a bigger shelter that they concealed in the ground.

Once a fortnight passed, the dragons were finally allowed to roam free in order to hunt for their own food. At first, only their Riders' force of will kept the four from following them. They were also taught to hunt only in the Spine to keep them away from eating farmers' livestock and raising questions. Though the dragons did not seem to comprehend words well yet, images, sensations and emotions seemed to be easily understood. It was imprecise but it worked. The distance with which the humans can talk to their dragons expanded until they managed to keep up the connection even with three leagues between them. Even when they were not communicating, there was still a thin thread of connection.

The dragons kept on maturing and growing. Their squeaks have finally turned into roars and their humming now rumbled too. What bothered Eragon the most was that the dragons still couldn't breathe fire, even though they could blow smoke. As the month ended, the dragons' shoulders were elbow-high. Their tough scales and sharp teeth have turned them into formidable hunters. They were graceful fliers even though they were not yet big enough to ride.

Sadly, the existence of four dragons were hard to conceal in the forest. Clawmarks and massive dung heaps were just the beginning though.

It was what pushed the four to reveal them to Garrow, and maybe even Sloan. What they have agreed upon first was that they had to learn more about dragons aside from Brom's old stories and to finally name them. They knew that they could ask Brom about dragonlore. The opportunity presented itself when they were asked to bring some chisels to be fixed by Horst. While Roran and Murtagh delivered them, Eragon was to go and talk to Brom.

The afternoon before that, the four met up and visited their dragons. The dragons descended from the sky in a spectacle of gem-like colors that took Eragon's breath away. His blue dragon moved towards him and nuzzled his arm. He opened his connection to tell it that he was leaving. The dragon was upset and Eragon tried to calm it down. The other dragons seemed uneasy with the plans to visit town too.

_Eragon._

It rang in its head, and it was from the dragon which was still looking at him with worried blue eyes. It sounded so solemn, like something big was about to happen. The dragon repeated his name twice. He was sure now that his dragon was anything but an animal.

On the way to Carvahall, the four were talking about their experience. "The dragons can speak," Roran said. "Mine kept repeating my name. They're not just animals then, are they?"

"No, I don't think so." Eragon muttered. "Much smarter than that."

They parted at the outskirts of the village. Katrina headed home before her father closed the shop and realized that she was missing. Roran and Murtagh went straight for Horst's shop. Eragon made his way to Brom's home as a light dusting of snow began to fall from the sky. He was still bothered by the fact that his dragon could speak. He raised his hand to knock on Brom's front door.

"Oh, it's you. What do you want, boy?"

Brom stood beside him with a smile. The man was bringing his gnarled staff, which he had used since he said that his knees were starting to get weaker. He really must have been older than he looked. Snow was piling up on the top of his brown hood, and his deep, mahogany-brown eyes seemed to flash red that night. He had a small smile beneath his eagle nose.

"I just – just wanted to ask you a few things." Eragon berated himself for feeling too jumpy. "I mean, I'm just curious."

"You're always curious," grunted Brom. He opened the door to his eyes, and his gold ring, topped with a sapphire, caught light. "Come in. We're going to take a while, you always have that endless stream of questions."

Eragon chuckled as he followed the storyteller into the house. Brom cursed incoherrently as something crashed in the house. A small light sparked as he lit a candle and began to illuminate the house.

Books, scrolls, ink pots and pens were piled up on tables and chairs. The house was more cluttered than the last time Eragon visited. That was two years ago, and he felt bad that he wasn't able to drop by more often. Though he was gruff, the man always had time to spare for Eragon and his endless questions. He also extended the same courtesy to Murtagh and Roran.

"Make room for yourself, but be careful! By the lost kings, this stuff is valuable." Brom lit the fire with his candle while Eragon removed some scrolls from a chair and placed them on a table. The village storyteller hung a kettle over the flames, lit his pipe and settled on his high-backed chair. "A warm fire is good for conversation. Now, what do you want?"

Eragon sat down and almost sneezed when a cloud of dust flew up. He rubbed his nose and cleared his throat. "Ever since my – my brothers and I were little, you kept telling us about the Dragon Riders and their adventures. I'm sure the ones you told us when Uncle Garrow left us to stay here while he did his business in town were just fairy tales but the ones you told the other night was the truth, am I right?"

"Yes, that was the truth and nothing else," Brom agreed.

Eragon hesitated. He wasn't sure about how to approach the subject. "You've talked about how the Riders started among the elves, when the humans joined and when they fell. We've heard about our namesakes – the first Rider ever and the two first human Riders. I want to know more about the dragons. But what makes the Riders special aside from their dragons?"

Brom chuckled as he puffed his pipe. Eragon liked Brom. Even though the old man was a little gruff and irritable at times, he was nothing but kind to Eragon, Murtagh and Roran. He always had time to entertain them. Garrow also seemed to know him from before he moved to Carvahall when Eragon was a year old. Whenever someone asked him about where he came from, he just replied with a chuckle that he came from a village that was not as interesting as Carvahall.

"The Riders? That's a vast subject, and we could talk about it for a year nonstop and still not finish half of it. I don't know much of the subject matter either." Brom puffed thoughtfully and gave Eragon a long look. "The Riders were called Shur'tugal by the elves, that much I know. They were numerous, an empire in their own right. If you believed every story about them, it would be too ridiculous as it might make them as powerful as lesser gods. These dragons, they and the dwarves are the true inhabitans of Alagaesia. They are fierce, beautiful and powerful – in a way, like the elves."

"The elves? Are they real? Why are they called the fair folk?" Eragon asked.

Brom snorted. "If you ask twice as many questions whenever I answer one of them then we might not finish at all, boy."

"I'm sorry." Eragon did his best to look that way too.

"I know you enough to say that you're not," Brom told him in amusement. He smiled at the boy. "Elves are real, and they are now people of the forest. They came from a land they call Alalea and only their kind know anything about it. They are called the fair folk because they are beautiful and graceful. They are formidable warriors too, mind you." Brom paused thoughtfully as he eyed the kettle. He shook his head. "Now, humans arrived three centuries after your namesake established the Riders. Your – brothers – were named after the first two human Riders who joined the ranks of the order. You three have honorable namesakes and you should bear them well."

"We were named after iconic Riders," Eragon said in wonder. He knew about that since the night that Brom told the tale but it still amazed him. "And arriving after elves can't be true, we've always lived in the valley."

"The Palancar Valley is old, but many people did not come from here – not even I, nor your sire – whoever he is. Ask around. Many people weren't here for long." The teakettle whistled loudly, and Brom hooked it out of the fire. He poured tea into two cups and handed one to Eragon. "The leaves don't have to steep for much long before it becomes too strong for you."

Eragon gladly accepted the tea. It felt too hot yet and would scald his tongue so he set it aside for the moment. "What happened to the dwarves when the Riders fell?"

"No one has seen them ever since. They sealed the entrances to their tunnels and hid underground. They were allied to the Riders though, and fought battles with them." Brom frowned. "They only vanished when the battle was lost."

"What about the dragons?" Eragon asked nervously. "I'm sure that they weren't all killed."

"That is what we have no idea of. Galbatorix spared those that swore allegiance to him and as far as I know, that would mean only the dragons of the Forsworn. There are still six alive aside from Galbatorix and Shruikan." Brom sighed and began to sip his tea. "If there are others alive then they are good at hiding."

It made Eragon wonder about the origins of the four dragons. He began to sip his tea too. "Where did the Urgals come from?"

"Those creatures came after the elves arrived. Their existence made the Riders and their abilities much more valuable." Brom took a deep breath and chuckled. "We could learn a lot from history, and it's such a shame that the king makes it such a delicate subject."

"How big were the dragons?" Eragon asked. He was worried about how to hide them.

"Larger than houses, with wingspans over a hundred feet. They didn't stop growing until they began passing as large hills." Brom sipped his tea again and looked thoughtful. "It took about five to six months after hatching before they breathed fire and could mate. That fire could keep up for minutes if the dragon was old enough."

Eragon threw caution to the winds. "I heard that their scales sparkled and shone like gems. A trader was talking about the Forsworn's dragons the other month."

"It was said that their scales shone in shimmering colors that shifted constantly. People used to say that they were like a living rainbow." Brom arched a bushy eyebrow suspiciously and narrowed his eyes. His pipe quietly smoldered out. "What was the name of the trader?"

Eragon froze for a second. He swallowed hard. "I really couldn't remember," he said quickly. "I just heard him talking in Morn's and was also talking about the way that Riders could hear the thoughts of their dragons."

"No, he was wrong. It wasn't in any of the stories." Brom brought out a tinderbox to relight his pipe quickly. "Did he say anything else?"

Eragon shook his head. He hated having to lie to Brom. He decided to quickly change the subject. "Do dragons live long?"

Brom was quiet for a while, tapping his pipe thoughtfully. The light reflected off his ring as he looked up at Eragon. "Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. Dragons could live long – pretty much forever, as a matter of fact, as long as their Riders lived or it wasn't killed. Riders lived long too. Dragons were magical creatures that affected everything around them. As their Riders are the closest to them, they were affected the most. Extended life, stronger bodies and keener minds were just some of the perks that they enjoyed. Human Riders slowly acquired pointed ears too, though not as prominent as an elf's."

Eragon resisted the urge to touch his ears. How much more would his dragon change his life? "Were dragons smart?"

"They are as intelligent as you and I. How else would they form agreements with elves?" Brom asked gruffly. "They're not just exotic mounts. They were cunning and wise, and powerful too. I do wish I saw one, but they were gone before my time."

"I wish you could tell me the names of the dragons you spoke about in your stories when we were little," Eragon said. "And more, if possible."

Brom shrugged and began listing off names, ending almost softly with the name of the dragons that featured prominently in his tales, Saphira. "Was it any of those? There were thousands more over the course of history but those are the ones that survived into stories."

"I'm sorry – about the dragons who weren't remembered." Eragon closed his eyes momentarily. "Murtagh and Roran are probably finished with Horst. We have to return home before sundown, or my uncle will worry. I'd rather not go yet, I have so many questions, but I have too. Thank you for your time."

"Oh, that's it? I thought you would exhaust me with questions about dragon fighting tactics and aerial combat until your uncle or brothers came to drag you out of my home." Brom chuckled. "Then take care of yourself. Tell me the name of the trader if you remember it."

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**I would appreciate reviews! :) It would just take you a few seconds, yes?**


	5. Of Names and Strangers

**Disclaimer: Everyone in Alagaesia besides my OC's are not mine. :(**

**Dropping by to thank everyone who spent their time for reviews! Virtual cookies for you! :3**

**Don't worry guys, Brom knows more than he lets on! And let's just say that Roran's eye color is more important soon so don't forget about that little, teeny fact!  
**

**Credits to Violet Eagle for noticing a few errors in my previous chapters, I must have overlooked them in my previous drafts. Will work on them over the weekend, don't fret. Apologizing in advance for my attrocious English, it's basically my third language.**

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**Chapter 5: Of Names and Strangers**

"Good job," Roran said approvingly once he and Murtagh managed to get every single information that Eragon gleaned from Brom. "That trader thing though, we have to ask Father about any new trader that came this year."

"Our little brother isn't a good liar," Murtagh said with a laugh.

Eragon grumbled. He hated being referred to as their little brother though he was the youngest. Though Roran was their cousin, the three grew up as brothers and referred to each other as such. "We've got so many names, but I forgot to ask Brom about how to tell if a dragon was male or female."

"Well, there's always a next time," Roran told him. "We've got enough for now. We were planning to drag you away from Brom's house if we had to, by the way."

"You didn't have to," Eragon muttered.

The following morning, the three boys discussed their newfound learnings with Katrina as they headed for the woods to help her gather her daily herbs before meeting the dragons. They decided to name their dragons in separate places and meet up in their original clearing after an hour. Eragon walked towards a different clearing that held a rushing stream and called outto his dragon with his mind. It descended before him and Eragon felt nervous. He now knew that they were equals.

The dragon walked towards him. _Eragon._

"Is that all you could say?" snapped Eragon.

_Yes._The dragon's eyes twinkled in amusement.

"Oh, great. Now you have a sense of humor." Eragon crossed his arms and stared at it with thoughtful blue eyes. "You need a name. Brom gave me a long list and I'm sure we can find one that you would like. What about Vanilor or Eridor? They were noble dragons and I'm sure that you are too."

_No. Eragon…_ The dragon seemed to be trying to tell him something.

"That's my name, of course you can't have it!" Eragon rubbed its head. "How about Iormungr?" he asked. The dragon sounded upset when it rejected the name and Eragon listed more until he realized why exactly the dragon didn't like any of them. "You're a she-dragon, aen't you?"

_Yes,_ the dragon told him smugly. It snorted and blew smoke at Eragon's face.

"Cut that out! Miremel? No? Opheila? Lenora? Vervada was wild but do you like it? Oh, not again, don't be upset!" Eragon dodged the cloud of smoke as his dragon became upset once more. He recalled the last name from Brom's list, which was also the dragon from his old tales. "Are you Saphira?"

Contentment passed through their link as the dragon hummed. She licked Eragon's hand. _Yes._

Eragon smiled. "Follow me. We shall meet the others and find out if they've had much success in naming their dragons."

Saphira took to the skies and followed Eragon using their link, until they found themselves in the clearing where the dragons first took shelter. Murtagh was already there with his dragon. He gave his twin brother a big smile. "It was hard, naming him. He never liked any of them."

"She was like that too," Eragon said as his dragon landed beside him.

_I was not hard to name._ Saphira blew another puff of smoke on her rider's face.

Roran arrived soon with his dragon, followed by Katrina a little while later. The four all seemed very happy, and their dragons were all humming with contentment. "So the naming went well, I presume," Roran told them.

"Yes. This is Saphira," Eragon said proudly. "It just felt… right."

"Oh, yours is a she-dragon too!" Katrina said with a smile. "This is Luneria. Seems like we managed to match names with those that Brom suggested, eh?"

"Mine was troublesome," Murtagh said, earning a snort from his dragon. "He rejected everything, I tell you. I decided to call him Thorn, since his spikes did look like that when he was a wee little hatchling." Thorn snorted again.

"This is Askanir," Roran said with a smile as he motioned to his dragon. "Yes, it was difficult to name him too."

"So two she-dragons and two he-dragons?" Katrina tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe they could even mate someday."

"More dragons? Just having one to care for is trouble enough," Murtagh said, and Thorn snorted irritably again. "See? Trouble, they are."

The following weeks brought another growth spurt to the dragons. They were now taller than their Riders, who can now sit at the hollow between their necks and shoulders. They have learned to converse with each other and the rest of the dragons too, and they spent many quiet time trying to perfect their mind-speak. The dragons were as complex as any other person, even though their personalities were different too.

Saphira was level-headed, Thorn had quite the temper, Askanir was more childish and Luneria was a little timid. They were the perfect match for their chosen partners. The dragons also proved to be cautious when it came to being revealed, and out of fear and selfishness, the Riders decided not to reveal them to anyone else.

Three more weeks passed, and on one particularly snowy day, the boys were roused early for an errand. They were to visit Horst and have him repair some tools. As the boys prepared to leave for Carvahall, Eragon opened his mind to Saphira.

_Saphira? I might not be able to come this morning_, he told her.

_There are others,_ Saphira replied cryptically before closing their link all of a sudden. Eragon thought that he saw a flash of gold and green in his dragon's mind.

_What was that all about? It seems like they're being very bloody secretive today._ Roran's voice filled Eragon's mind and judging from Murtagh's reaction, he was speaking to both of them. He opened the door and picked up the bundle of tools.

Together, they walked down the path to Carvahall. _There are others? I wish they could have at least explained._ Eragon couldn't keep the whine away from even his thoughts.

The village seemed subdued due to the snowfall. Most people tended to stay indoors in that weather and the winter that year was exceptionally harsh. Horst's smithy was already open – and the warmth was pleasant too. While they waited for Horst to finish working on their tools, Eragon glanced at his companions. _Do you think they saw other dragons?_

Once he was finished, Horst approached the boys and gave them the bundled tools. "I've heard that you were trying to sell some strange stones a month ago. Do you still have them?"

"No, we've gotten rid of those." Murtagh shrugged. He was better at making alibis and Eragon felt thankful for that.

"There were some strange fellows in black cloaks that were bringing swords, they were asking about stones that had the same description as those." Horst looked worried. "I don't like the looks of them – there were three."

_What if the dragons met the Forsworn?_ Roran asked nervously.

_By the lost kings, don't think of it that way!_ Murtagh replied irritably.

Dread filled the three boys. What if the owners of the eggs finally managed to track them? He took a deep breath. "Thanks for telling us. Do you have any idea about where they are?"

"I didn't tell you about them for you to search! I told you about them so that you could go home, lads." Horst shook his head. "You better go home. They're giving me a bad feeling. I'll do my best to keep them away from your farm, but I can't promise anything."

Eragon nodded gratefully, wishing that he could admit everything about the dragons. They had to warn Katrina too. "If that is the case then we should leave now." They paid for he repaired tools and bade Horst farewell.

The boys passed by Sloan's house when they heard a voice. Roran raised a finger to his lips and pointed to some crates behind the butcher's. They crouched behind those and strained their ears to listen.

"When did this happen?" a smooth, slightly hissing voice asked.

"About three months ago. One I've seen with my very own eyes and the three I've only heard talks of." It was Sloan, and he was speaking hurriedly. "My daughter threw away the one that was given to her."

"Are you sure? It would be… unpleasant for you if you make a mistake." The third voice was deep and moist, something creepy that sent goosebumps down Eragon's arms.

"I'm sure about that. The other boys must still have theirs. You could even ask around."

"They have been quite uncooperative," the first voice said, sounding miffed. "You have been quite helpful. We will not forget you."

Two tall men walked out of the shop a couple of seconds later. They were dressed in black cloaks, as Horst said. Their cloaks seemed lumpy at the back and they wore thick, leather gloves. Murtagh gave them a long look and moved forward, followed by Roran and Eragon. One of the hooded men shifted and then swiveled to face them. Eragon's breath caught and he froze in place. Fear flooded through his body. The men stalked towards him, hands on sheathed swords. The street was empty apart from the strangers and the boys.

"Eragon!" Brom called out, limping towards them.

The strangers hissed and were ready to draw their swords. Eragon panicked. He had to tell Brom somehow but he couldn't speak. He glanced at Murtagh, who was trying to give the old man a warning look.

"Boys, what are you doing here in the cold?" Brom asked, oblivious to their looks of terror. The strangers hissed once more before running off. "You'll get sick."

Eragon felt weak as he was released from the strange sensation that kept him in place. He staggered and Brom grabbed his hand to steady him. "The cold isn't good for you either, old man. You keep complaining about aching bones, remember?"

Brom huffed. "I'm as fine as can be, lad. I heard that you were in town and was wondering if you boys could help me today."

"Actually we're quite in a hurry," Roran said. "Father would be quite worried if we don't get back before lunch."

Brom shrugged. "Well, if you say so. Then best be on your way."

_Eragon, you have to hurry. We must meet soon._ Saphira's voice was urgent. There it was again, the flash of jewel-bright green and gold in her mind. _This is important._

As the boys bade goodbye to Brom, the headed for the woods instead of going straight home. Something was tugging at them, preventing them from meeting and warning Garrow. It felt like it would be dangerous to do so without their dragons. They found the four dragons in the clearing, along with Katrina who was rubbing Luneria's head. She glanced at the three approaching boys.

"Our dragons are being quite secretive today," she said.

The dragons nuzzled their Riders appreciatively. Saphira scrutinized Eragon with one clear-cut blue eye. _Set your troubles aside. Do you wish to finally experience your first flight, partner of my mind and heart?_

Eragon blinked. First flight? But his dragon was barely bigger than him. "Are you sure about this?"

Saphira dipped her head and let out a puff of smoke. _I am stronger than you little two-legs. Do not underestimate me, Eragon. Now, do you want that first ride of yours or not?_

Eragon smiled and sat on the hollow of his dragon's back. He noticed the others staring at him, already mounting their own partners. He could see the flashes of green and gold from Saphira's mind once again and hoped that they were going to be explained soon. Saphira let out a small roar and spread her wings.

The four dragons took to the sky and hovered there, a startling display of jewel-bright colors that sparkled in the faint winter sun. Eragon's legs were starting to hurt as they rubbed against the dragon's scales. That was when Eragon felt his world turn upside down. A flash of green and gold flew up from some other part of the forest.

"Two dragons ahead!" Murtagh called out.

* * *

**Sorry for the short chapter, I am emotionally distraught right now. And Murtagh ending some cliffhangers might become a future running gag. Chapters will definitely be longer once things get juicier!**

**I do appreciate reviews!**


	6. Beginning of a Journey

**Disclaimer: No.**

**And I must ramble again. This is not exactly one of my best chapters, more of a filler. Really. I just wanted to make up for the lack of juicy things in the previous chapter~ heeeeh! And 10 pages seems so short in **

**Someone got the green Rider right! Nyahaha! And yes, she might appear to be quite younger here and with more emotions because a cold, boring, Arya who likes someone five times younger just doesn't sit right with me for some reason.**

**And yes, I don't like damsels in distress much, which is why we have a tougher Katrina now. Someone seems to be up to something too, a reviewer's suspicions is often right!**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Beginning of a Journey**

"Thank you for stating the obvious, dear brother," Roran said with a shaky voice. He patted Askanir's neck. "I hope you could explain, buddy."

Askanir shifted a little, making his Rider's leg ache. _They are friends, Roran. They're a lot like us. Don't worry because they won't hurt you._ He flapped his wings excitedly and soared followed his brethren to meet the two new dragons.

The six dragons were around the same size and Roran guessed that the two newcomers were fairly young too. Together, the six jewel-bright creatures shone under the sun like gems from a lost king's crown. Just seeing two more dragons was amazing, but they came with Riders – and the only Riders that the four knew of were the king and his six surviving Forsworn. The dragons before them were too small – too young – to belong to someone who lived for a century.

The Riders were cloaked in black, made of richer, soft-looking material that was a far cry from the ones that the strangers from Carvahall wore. They were far shorter too, maybe just as tall as the four Riders from the village. The green Rider raised a hand and called out. "Eka ai fricai un Shur'tugal." The voice was clear, musical and obviously female.

"Who are you and what do you want from us?" Murtagh asked fiercely. Thorn hovered protectively between the strangers and the other Riders.

"We are Riders and friends," the green Rider said as her dragon moved forward a little. "We came here in search of an old man who is knowledgeable in dragonlore, but we did not expect Riders – or the king's men."

"The king's men are our enemies," Eragon told her, arms crossed.

"And they are ours too," the golden Rider said. Her voice was deep and rich, somehow reassuring. "We are friends, and we wish for you to take us to the expert in dragonlore."

_They're talking about the storyteller, right? Brom?_ Katrina's voice rang through the three boys' minds and Roran could barely stop himself from turning red. _What if they're lying and they're actually the Forsworn?_

_No, I believe that they are telling the truth. They're friends._ Luneria's voice resonated, trying to assure her Rider and the others. _Take them to this old two-legs that you talk about._

Murtagh smiled. "We would be glad to take you to Brom, so we better descend now. My legs are starting to hurt."

They landed in a clearing, not far from the road leading to Garrow's farm. Something felt wrong as soon as they jumped off their dragon's backs. The two strangers were looking around curiously, as if they were both uneasy too. "Something's not right here," the golden Rider murmured thoughtfully.

"Our house is just ahead," Murtagh began. He blinked. "By the lost kings, our house is ahead!"

Roran didn't wait for his cousin to finish. He began to sprint towards the road. What if the cloaked strangers found their home already? The cold air stung on his cheeks but he didn't care. His father was in danger. He could hear Katrina calling out and his two cousins running behind him. _Askanir, stay nearby._

He felt his dragon rise to the air, followed by the other six. _As you wish. We will not let you deal with whatever it is alone._

His home was blasted apart, that much he knew as soon as he arrived. Three strange, massive creatures were standing in the middle of their frozen fields. Two of the creatures had thick, leathery skin and were as big as a barn. Their hind legs were big and strong, but their body was like that of a starved dog. Their wings looked like a twisted version of a dragon's. Their heads were long and their snouts looked like beaks, with evil black eyes glaring at Roran. The two cloaked strangers from the village were riding them.

Between them was a massive, terrible dragon. Its scales were a sick shade of orange that hurt to look at. Its eyes were a deeper, angrier shade of orange and glared at Roran as he stepped nearer. It was ten times bigger than his dragon, maybe even more. The orange dragon had a Rider too – and it was an elf, his ears peeking out. His hair was silver and flowed to his shoulders, and he was definitely inhumanly beautiful. His sharp gray eyes stared at Roran in amusement.

Roran froze. He was afraid that he was face-to-face with one of the Forsworn. He could hear his dragon shrieking in his mind, urging him to run, but he couldn't move. Beside him, Eragon and Murtagh were breathing heavily. That was when he saw the man slumped unconscious against the Forsworn Rider – it was his father. "Give him back!" he cried out, finally finding his voice. Katrina and the two cloaked Riders came into view.

The Forsworn Rider smiled and his dragon flew up, followed by the two strange creatures. It was like the day couldn't become stranger. The six younger dragons hovered behind their six Riders, and were about to attack their orange kin when they were also frozen in place like their partners. The orange dragon and its companions soared above them and left. It was a long time before those left behind could regain their movement.

"An orange dragon… That would be Enduriel the Broken," the green Rider pondered quietly. She glanced at the smoking remains of the house and the barn. "Was that your father, violet Rider?"

"We have to go to Brom," the golden Rider said. "He can help you."

"We have to leave," Roran said angrily. He began to walk around. "We could still follow that bastard Rider and his dragon. I have to save Father."

"I think that we'll be pulverized if we follow Enduriel. Maybe Brom might teach us more, help us learn more about being Riders so that we can save Uncle," Murtagh told him. He looked pained and angry, breathing heavily. The dragons – all six of them – hummed in approval.

Having no choice but to agree, the six Riders mounted their dragons to shorten the trek to Cavahall. They landed two miles away from the entrance to the village to conceal their dragons. Then they walked through the village dejectedly – even Katrina, to whom Garrow was nothing but nice. "I wish we could have come sooner," she said quietly.

"If we were there, he would have killed us." Roran closed his eyes, keeping tears from falling. He wished he knew exactly how strong a Rider was. He wished he knew more. "I wish… I wish that we could have been stronger."

"I wish so too." Katrina took his hand and squeezed it before letting go. She turned red and walked faster to keep up with the two new Riders.

Brom instantly opened the door to his house when Eragon knocked. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the cloaked Riders and then glanced at Roran's youngest cousin. "I believe that you have a very plausible explanation for this, boy."

The green Rider stepped forward and removed a leather glove from her hand. She raised her palm, the silvery dragon-mark shimmering. "Eka ai fricai un Shur'tugal. Greetings, Brom."

Brom broke into a smile. "So, it's true. Do come in."

The two cloaked Riders bowed to Brom and entered his house. Brom stared at the four others remaining at the door. "Is something the matter?" The four knew each other so much. Their hands raised at the same time. Their dragon-marks shimmered before the old storyteller, whose eyes widened. His brown eyes scanned them in wonder. "It is more than I could have wished for. Truly, this is a most wonderful day – though I wish that you could have told me sooner. Hmph. Come inside, for there seems to be more to this story."

Roran clenched his fists. Maybe trusting Brom was a good thing – as long as it didn't get him in trouble too.

* * *

"Brom, your house is still a mess," complained Eragon as they walked inside. Brom's books and scrolls were still lying around randomly. He had to swerve around two big heaps of scrolls that he almost bumped into. His brother wasn't as lucky and already sent a pile of books crashing down. "Really, it is a mess."

The two new Riders were standing by the fireplace and have finally removed their cloaks. Eragon's breath caught. The green Rider was a beautiful girl, maybe around the same age as him. Her hair was as black as the feathers of a raven, her skin as pale and as soft as ivory. Her eyes were a startling shade of emerald. When she shifted her head, pointed ears peeked out.

The golden Rider had warm brown skin tinged with olive that looked soft to the touch. Eragon has never heard of someone with skin like her but it was beautiful. Her ebony hair cascaded to her shoulders and a bit was swept away from her eyes the color of molten gold flecked with honey. While the green Rider's beauty seemed ethereal, hers was more natural-looking.

"And where have you come from? An elf and a girl who appears to be an old friend's daughter…" Brom closed his eyes and sat down on his high-backed chair. Books and scrolls tumbled down from it.

"I am Arya of the house Drottning, and this is Nasuada, daughter of Ajihad. Yes, she is the daughter of your old friend, I believe." The green Rider raised an eyebrow at the mess that Brom called his home.

"I will ask of you and your tale soon enough." Brom clucked his tongue and glanced at Eragon and company. "How long?"

"How long what?" Eragon asked.

"Your dragons. Big, jewel-bright predators that fly." Brom smacked his head. "How long have you bonded with one?"

"Around two or three months," Katrina told him, head down. "And now Garrow is in trouble because of us."

"Those cloaked men." Brom closed his eyes, deep in thought. He rubbed his forehead in stress. "Even this village is not safe anymore – especially not for you. What have they done to Garrow?"

"The Forsworn with the orange dragon – Enduriel, I hear? – he took Father away." Roran closed his eyes, as if trying to master his rage. "You know so much dragonlore. You have to help us get him back. Teach us more about being true Riders – even if we just follow what the legends say."

"He's right. We have to do something. We can't just – just…" Eragon began.

"Mighty tasks, for ones as young as you. Even though you are Riders, you are but children." Brom stood up. "And you are coming with us too, Katrina?"

"Yes. I am a Rider and I'm sure that this is my duty too." Katrina smiled demurely. "I love my father and would loathe to leave him, even if he seems so hateful to many people in the village. But I am a Rider too, and I will help my friends rescue Garrow – and learn more about what it means to be a Rider in the process."

"Your father… I'm sorry to tell you, but he gave us away. We heard him talking to the strangers," admitted Murtagh.

"Then that settles it, right? I'm running away." Katrina winked at the three boys.

Brom grunted approvingly. "Said like a true Rider, lass. Now then, I don't know much about being a Dragon Rider but I will do my best to teach you about what I do know." He glanceda t the girls called Arya and Nasuada. "You are coming too?"

"Of course," Nasuada said, crossing her arms. "This is the only way for us to learn more about the way of Riders."

"Then meet me in the ruins of the farm in two hours. Take everything that you can salvage and that you might need from the place." Brom steeled himself and smiled. "You need swords – proper Rider swords…"

* * *

Their dragons were waiting for the three boys in the farm. They looked bored, and Thorn seemed to have buried his nose in the remains of the barn. The animals were missing – it was either they were dead, or they already escaped. Murtagh's nails dug into his palm as he clenched his fists. He wanted nothing more than to rescue his uncle and rip Enduriel into shreds with his bare hands.

_Little two-legs, it does not do you good to dwell on what has happened with that oath-breaker. We shall tear him to shreds together, along with your nest-mates and their dragons._ Thorn turned to face his Rider, his ruby eye shimmering with emotion.

Eragon stepped forward after rubbing Saphira's head forlornly. He moved through the wreckage, dodging a few splinters of wood. He kicked a pebble that belonged to their chimney and picked upa twisted bit of wood that used to be part of their stove. "Everything is in ruins," he mused as he picked up the three tube quivers that also held their bows. "Even our weapons are a mess."

"We'll ask Brom to help us make new ones," Murtagh told him. He wanted to assure his brother, to tell him that everything was fine. The thing is that it wasn't, so he couldn't. He dug through the rubble and found three packs that were relatively unharmed. Spare clothes and some tools were still inside, the way they always were. "These will do."

Roran already stuffed a fourth pack with some other items that they might need. He also grabbed the money bags that were still concealed and split them so that the boys all had some. He brushed some hair away from his eyes. "When we save Father, we will tell him everything, right?"

"Yes, we will." Murtagh let out a huff of breath, trying to control his rage.

_Anger consumes, little two-legs._ Thorn blinked and looked around. He nudged a beam of wood and it crumbled to ashes. _Sorrow breeds here. I'm sorry about your nest-mate. We will save him together, I promise._

_Our little ones are approaching._ Luneria flew into view, her silvery scales shimmering like moonbeams. Behind her were the green and gold dragons who looked a little awkward as they landed a few yards away. They sniffed what seemed to be saddles strapped on their backs.

Katrina arrived first, hefting a pack that she wasn't used to bringing. Her face was streaked with tears and shook her head as she noticed the boys' questioning looks. Arya and Nasuada followed behind her, hoods raised to conceal their faces once more. They were leading two horses – white for Aryas and dappled brown for Nasuada. Brom arrived soon after, looking worried. All of that melted away when he laid eyes on the dragons.

It was replaced by a very solemn, elated look. The six dragons gave him a curious look too. Thorn and Askanir snorted with plumes of smoke coming out of their nostrils. The storyteller didn't seem to mind, though. Outwardly he appeared to be in his forties or fifties, but at that moment he looked ancient as he approached the six glittering creatures with a mixture of awe and what appeared to be longing. "What are their names?"

"Well, my dragon's name is Askanir." Roran smiled as his dragon stepped forward to regard Brom with his pale violet eyes.

"My partner is Thorn," Murtagh said proudly. Thorn let out a puff of smoke and gave the old man a look of curiosity.

"This is Saphira, and she seems to like you." Eragon looked sullen as he introduced his dragon.

_Nonsense._ Saphira projected her voice to everyone in the ruins. _I chose you as my Rider, did I not? Besides, I find two-legs very queer. Especially that little pointy-ears there._

"Hey!" snapped Arya as everyone laughed at the blue dragon's statement. "I would have you know that my dragon, Firnen, can eat you if I wanted him to."

"Oh, shut it, elf." Nasuada lazily rubbed her dragon's snout. "Solaris here will restrain him, she will."

_I am Luneria,_ Katrina's dragon said before her Rider could speak. _And forgive my Rider, she loathes to leave her nest-mate – her sire. I don't understand you creatures very well. Young ones must leave their parents to spread their wings and take to the skies._

Katrina wiped away her tears. She forced out a smile. "Y-you're right. This is my way of growing up, isn't it?"

_It is. You're not a hatchling anymore. You're a Rider now._ Luneria's voice sounded excited.

"Oh, not quite," Brom said, finally finding his voice. "To become full-fledged Riders, then you will need swords."

"Swords?" Eragon's eyes widened. Murtagh hated to imagine the things that his inexperienced little brother would do with one. He might poke his own eyes out. "Riders had swords?"

"Yes," Brom said as they began to walk. "I could help you retrieve some of them too. They're a little far from here but we'll get some horses once we reach Therinsford. Let's just say that I am interested in teaching and keeping the new Riders alive. You hold so much meaning for our world right now. We should also work on tracking Garrow and young Arya's brother."

There was silence for a moment as they surveyed the ruins of the farm. Then, Roran cried out and picked up something from the wreckage. It was a big, circular metal flask. It had a broken string which could have been used to tie it to a belt. "What's that?" Eragon called out.

"I don't know, it looks too thick to be water," Roran murmured, narrowing his eyes.

Brom strode towards him and took the vial with one swift movement. He opened it and poured a bit of clear, shiny liquid on the cap. A cloying smell permeated the air, and the dragons moved around restlessly. "This is oil from the Seithr plant. Those plants can only be found in the northern seas. Normally, jewelers use this oil to make their pearls more lustrous and strong. If you use some incantations and have a blood sacrifice along with it, it will be able to burn through flesh and leave everything else unharmed. 'Tis the perfect assassination tool. Dip some sheets with this, soak a weapon, mix it with food… The next person who touches it will be harmed. Not a nice picture."

Murtagh felt himself shudder. Did Enduriel use that to torture his uncle before taking him away? He fought the nausea that came with the thought. "The king won't be pleased that they lost it. They'll swoop right back here once they realize that they left it behind."

"Is this oil rare?" Eragon asked, peering at the flask with a hand over his nose. "I'm sure there are some shipping records that we may consult."

"It's expensive but not really that rare. There are some specialized traders who keep shipping records…" Brom paused and blinked. His face brightened. "Cities along the coast keep those records and we can use it to track Enduriel and his Ra'zac cronies! We'll go through your training as we move south to the coastal cities. We should try our luck in Teirm first, I have a friend who can help us in there!"

"Going through human cities does not feel like a good idea…" Arya said. "Even though magic can chane my ears and lighten Nasuada's skin to make us blend in, it is still dangerous. Dragons can easily be spotted. They are not exactly easy to hide."

_That little pointy-ears worries too much._ Thorn complained to Murtagh. _Does she really think that we can't hide ourselves?_

"I heard that." Arya huffed and glanced back to Brom. "We have to get these humans some horses too. We can't ride for long with our dragons, they're still a little too young."

"Yes, I can see that." Brom rubbed his forehead, deep in thought. "We should cover as much distance as we can today. We'll get some horses once we reach Therinsford."

* * *

It was a cold winter night. Classic nights like those often brought Eragon to Brom's doorstep when he was younger, sipping tea that the older man brewed and listening to some stories about some ancient Rider's feats. Well now he was a Rider too, and it wasn't as glamorous as the old tales said. True, he did love Saphira as he did his family, but he didn't sign up for misery. He already missed his uncle and worried about him. Garrow and his late wife always treated him and Murtagh like his own sons and often called the three boys "the silly triplets."

They camped in a clearing that the boys once found. With the help of Katrina, they previously widened it enough to give the dragons a safe place to land even when they grew larger. Since their dragons were still quite small, it was enough of a space for everyone and a campfire. Katrina helped Brom light the fire and hang a pot over it. They used snow to melt and be used as water. The butcher's daughter pulled out some cubes of pork and dropped them on the slowly boiling water and added a lump of salt.

"Where'd you get the meat?" Eragon asked curiously.

"What father doesn't know won't hurt." Katrina bit her lip and retreated to sit beside Luneria. "We can't go hungry, right?"

After their quick dinner, Brom settled down and lit his pipe. "You are what seems to be the Riders that Galbatorix does not have under his control – the first free Riders. It makes me wonder about what the future holds."

"Who exactly are you? Can you talk to our dragons too?" Eragon winced as his brother hit the back of his head. "That hurt, you!"

"That wasn't so respectful," countered Murtagh. "Uncle Garrow taught us manners."

"Yes, I can." Brom glanced at Arya and Nasuada, who stared right back at him. "I was once a young scholar who crossed paths with the Varden. We uncovered some ruins that held some eggs that your dragons came from, along with some Rider swords. We struck a deal – if those dragons hatch, I will come to help their Riders train. In return, they will pay for me to quietly live in a village of my choosing. And I choise Carvahall, as you can see."

Something felt off with that story, but Roran gave Eragon a warning look. He turned to face Brom. "Why did they ask you to train the future Riders?"

"My research has given me a considerable amount of knowledge in dragonlore, as you have seen. "The texts I had have been burned off long before the Varden even met me." Brom closed his eyes and smiled sadly. "They even gave me one of the Rider swords as a parting gift and we concealed the rest. Now I think young Arya here will tell you the rest."

Arya glanced at them, collecting her thoughts. She was beautiful that way, with her canted green eyes and her raven-black hair. "I am a young elf of fifteen, a child among my people. My brother is thrice my age and has been there when the agreement was made. One each of the eggs would be left among the elves and the Varden, while four of them would be ferried to and from our cities and the Varden headquarters every year. If the eggs that were left behind did not hatch within five years, they would be swapped. My brother was one of the couriers chosen to ferry the eggs.

I am a new recruit, having been sent to learn more about humans like my brother and his companion, Glenwing, have. We were attacked by a shade and some Urgals. They slew Glenwing and took my brother away – but not before he used a transportation spell. It succeeded partially, I believe, but one of the eggs was left behind and I had to run for it." Arya closed her eyes as tears threatened to spill. A few seconds of silence passed. Her dragon, Firnen, rumbled beside her. "There was no other way. I had to save the egg while the foe was preoccupied. My queen gave me the other egg and sent me to the Varden to report the events. I had thirteen guards with me."

"Well, I met her and led her into our headquarters," explained Nasuada. "The leader asked me to, and she showed me the dragon eggs… which hatched. It was also then that I found out more. The eggs that our side was keeping for five years was missing, and was tracked down by one of its guards named Ismira, who returned empty-handed. She said that it was unsafe and she gave it to someone who could take care of it."

"My mother's name is Ismira and she gave me the silver egg…" mused Katrina.

_I tried to reach out to her…_ Luneria explained._ Something helped me communicate and made her lead me to my Rider. I did not hatch yet though, not until all six of us were in the right hands. There seemed to be something more._

"Great, not even our dragons could explain what happened." Eragon shook his head. "So many questions unanswered make my head ache."

"It doesn't matter, at least your dragons have found their Riders," Brom said soothingly. "I'm still wondering why two young female Riders made their way from the far south to Carvahall to look for me without some sort of guard following them."

"We ran away." Nasuada smiled cheekily. "Father wanted to keep us locked up in our headquarters until you could be contacted. I, er, convinced Arya to break us out and we did. Her elven guard accompanied us until the edge of the valley and then they veered off to the woods."

_You shouldn't press them for questions, little one._ Saphira gave Eragon a knowing look as she moved closer to him and closed her big blue eyes. _You have only met and they will not tell you anything no matter how hard you press them._

Brom rummaged in his pack and pulled out a wrapped package that was at least five feet long. It seemed to be quite heavy. He slowly peeled away layers of the cloth until he revealed a sword. It had a pommel made of gold, shaped like a teardrop and holding a pale blue sapphire as big as a small egg. It had a hilt wrapped in burnished silver that gleamed in the firelight. It had a smooth, sky blue scabbard that was adorned with one symbol. Patterns of flames made of steel rested on its tip. Brom drew the sword silently and revealed a thin, flat blade the color the winter sky. It felt ancient and powerful.

"This is Undbitr," Brom said fondly. "No records exist of its Rider except for some that talk about the way that his dragon died before him. Six more of its kind are hidden and we will retrieve those before we start with your training. Riders were presented with a sword that matched their dragons' scales, made from a secret method."

"Yes, only Rhunon could make something like this," confirmed Arya. "And they never dull, stain or rust away. Undbitr means 'wound biter' in my people's language."

"If you must know, anyone can speak to a dragon with the proper training." Brom sheathed his sword and rummaged in his pack once more. He pulled out rolled leathers. "I bought these from Gedric the tanner a few days back. I was supposed to make some boots with them but well, a Rider's saddle is important. There were two kinds back in the day. One was molded like a horse's saddle and was hard, more comfortable. We don't have the time to make that, but we could work on the other kind tomorrow, like those that our young friends Arya and Nasuada have here. It is thin and lightly padded, just enough to protect a Rider's legs, but it is enough."

"What were those cloaked men that assisted Enduriel? They had strange mounts – like big, pale, malnourished bats." Murtagh picked up a stick and created a crude drawing of the creatures that stood with the orange dragon between them.

"I believe that they're called the Ra'zac. I'm not sure if that's what their race is called or if they chose it themselves but I do know that they only emerged once Galbatorix rose into power. He must have sought them out himself." Brom looked at the young Riders gravely. "They have beaks and big, black eyes. The rest of their bodies are probably as horrifying as that so they cover themselves with thick, lumpy cloaks. Even with no magic powers, they have incredible speed and strength. These cunning creatures are averse to sunlight. They are the king's cronies, often assisting one of the Forsworn. Their mounts are creatures called Lethrblaka but I have no idea about what those are."

Eragon stared at his palm, at the silvery, dragon-shaped spiral mark on it. "What are these marks? Do every Rider have them?"

"That is the gedwey ignasia – or the shining palm. Every Rider has it after touching their dragon for the first time." Arya showed him her own. "It is a mark of our bond with our dragon partners."

"Now, we have a long day tomorrow. We'll work on your saddles in the morning and start our trek to Therinsford in the afternoon." Brom stared at the fire, a strange gleam in his eyes. "Get as much rest as you can. I can't assure that you will have enough in the next few days."

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**Reviews are really appreciated! Your enthusiasm warms my heart! I'll work on longer future chapters and any suggestions on Rider swords would be very welcome! ;)**


	7. Passing on the Legacy

**Disclaimer: No, not mine. Sadly.**

**Thank you for the reviewer who gave me the idea of Katrina's sword = moon :D  
**

**To the anonymous reviewer, uhm, AU stands for Alternate Universe, sorry about that ;_; I'm also going to apologize for not updating soon enough, my kid brother caught dengue fever and is staying in the hospital so everybody is very busy and I'm staying over at my grandmother's with some other cousins where there's no Internet. I'm posting this at work instead.**

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**Chapter 7: Passing on the Legacy**

The group began the trek to Therinsford the following day. The road wasn't well-traveled and was faded in some places. Arya and Nasuada road comfortably on the horses, keeping it slow to match the pace of those who walked. The dragons flew overhead and went to hide in the mountains, trying their best to stay out of sight. It was a cool, crisp winter morning. Being without their dragons instilled a sense of discomfort among the six young Riders.

Eragon glanced at Brom. "You claim to know a lot about dragons. What can you tell us?"

Brom rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he kicked a small, frosted rock. "I know so little about something that we have a lot to learn about. Well, I know that dragons inside their eggs are ready to hatch ones they are laid but wait for the right time to do so. Wild dragons usually hatch when the conditions are favorable – enough food, safe environment… You get it. Those that were given to their Riders won't hatch until they haven't found a suitable partner. Nobody knows how that happens but people lined up in cities just to have a chance back in the old days."

"Our dragons wouldn't have hatched if they didn't like us, right?" Nasuada asked, rubbing her glove-covered palm.

Eragon mulled over those words and called out to Saphira. _Was that true?_

_I chose you. You should feel honored!_ Saphira told him, laughter filling her Rider's head. _I was waiting for so long just to find the right Rider and hatch at the right time._

Brom spent the next few hours discussing about what dragons ate and what plants could heal and make them ill. He taught about dragon maintenance and how to battle with one on foot, on horseback and atop another dragon. He was constantly interrupted by questions, most especially by Eragon himself and was pleased to entertain their queries.

Therinsford was half a day's walk away once evening came. They camped in a comfortable, rocky spot that could conceal the dragons well. While their partners were on their way, Eragon and Murtagh cooked dinner the way they did when out hunting and served them on wooden bowls. Arya accepted hers thankfully and gave Eragon a long look.

"I would appreciate it if you would, ah, keep this a secret if you should ever meet my people. Elves do not eat meat but I was intrigued and found it quite tasty." The lone elven Rider's cheeks flushed as she began to eat.

"Your secret is safe with us." Eragon assured her.

With a strong gust of wind, the six dragons arrived, their shining colors muted in the faint moonlight. Firnen's emerald scales shimmered as he regarded his Rider and the others. _Pointy-eared two-legs are silly, are they not? Fruits and vegetables are food for the prey._

"Rightly said as a hunter of the sky," Arya told him and everyone else. "That's why I'm also eating meat now, yes?"

Saphira landed beside Eragon and folded her wings. She let him lean against her belly. _Thorn and Askanir have tried to challenge me while we were hunting today. They thought they could best me. Ha! Nobody can beat a she-dragon's ferocity._

"Males are cocky creatures," Katrina told her, ignoring Roran and Murtagh's protests. "They love to show off to potential – er – mates."

_Not all dragon and two-leg males are like that._ Solaris snorted at Thorn and Askanir's disapproving thoughts that was projected to everyone's minds.

Brom finished whittling seven long sticks and tossed one to Eragon, who was nearest. "Defend yourself!" he snapped.

The night ended with every single Rider left with a sore body – even Arya, who complained that she could have outdone Brom in archery. Eragon quickly realized that the coughing growls of the dragons actually meant that they were laughing. He turned to Saphira. "What exactly are you laughing about?"

_You hatchlings got easily beaten by the old two-legs. Even little pointy-ears is supposed to be a superior warrior._ Saphira closed her eyes and hummed in amusement.

"If you must know, I was never trained in swordplay. That was to come in two years." Arya crossed her arms and leaned against the still chuckling Firnen.

Everyone was still sore when morning came. It didn't exactly improve Eragon's mood as he watched the six dragons take flight to hunt. He ached all over, which amused Saphira. They packed up quickly to reach Therinsford before noon. Brom glanced at his six wards. "You better tell your dragons to fly ahead and wait for us on the other side of Therinsford so that they will remain unnoticed."

"Why don't you tell them yourself?" Murtagh grumbled, rubbing his arms sorely.

"People used to consider it bad manners to interfere with another's dragon. You are an exception, because it seems like you and your dragons are basically family." Brom's eyes twinkled. "Now please relay my orders."

Grumbling, Eragon called out to Saphira and did as ordered. Saphira was concerned. _You should be careful. The king's men and oath-breakers might be in there. You know how trouble seems to find you._

As they neared Therinsford, the road took on a more worn appearance. Farms could be seen all over the place, making Eragon feel the pain of leaving his home. "I wonder if people have noticed four missing kids, a destroyed farm and a missing farmer?"

"Oh, yes. Many would speculate. They might think that I kidnapped you and destroyed your home. Sloan would most definitely throw a fit." Brom chuckled in amusement. "I left a letter explaining everything to Horst. He can be trusted, that much I know."

_ He better be._ Askanir growled in everyone's heads, making Eragon jump up in surprise. _Or else I will eat you, old two-legs._

Brom smiled. "Spoken like a true dragon, that violet one of yours," he told Roran.

"Well he better be, he's spent the last few weeks complaining about Thorn bullying him, he has to stand up for himself too. I won't have my dragon being a weakling," Roran replied.

The buildings and streets of Therinsford were made in a haphazard manner. Nasuada narrowed her eyes as they went nearer. "That place is a mess. Carvahall seems more orderly and so inviting even if this place is bigger." She and Arya removed their hoods as the elf girl uttered something that rounded her ears and lightened Nasuada's skin to a more common southern tan.

"Good old Carvahall, with the sultry-eyed maidens and friendly folk," Murtagh said, reciting old descriptions of the village. "We'll go back there someday."

"Yes, we will." Eragon tried to assure himself too.

A bridge over the Anora River separated the small group from Therinsford. A grimy man in ragged clothes stood in the very middle, leering at them. His badly-kept teeth peered out as he smiled. "You can't pass this bridge here," he said in a thick accent. "This bridge here, 'tis mine. You have to pay me five crowns."

"Five crowns?" Katrina hissed. "Highway robbery at its finest!"

"Or you could be my blushing bride, dearie." The man chuckled, as if pleased with his idea.

Brom brought out his purse calmly. He handed over some coins without a word, and the grimy bridgekeeper stuffed them in the sack hanging from his belt with a quick thanks. Brom began walking again and tripped. He had to grab the man's arm for support. "Whoops. Silly old me," he said quickly.

"You better watch your step, you old bag o' bones," the grimy man complained.

Once they were out of earshot, Eragon crossed his arms. "Don't you seriously know a thing about haggling? He skinned you alive, old man!"

"Not every fool can be argued with, boy." Brom smiled and showed the pile of gleaming coins in his palm. "Let them play their game and use their foolishness to your advantage. People really should avoid keeping their coins in one place."

"Old man, you seriously cut his purse!" Roran's eyes widened in amazement.

There was a howl behind them. "Well, that was your friend back there," Arya told him in amusement. "He'll probably alert the authorities soon so you better conclude your business here."

"How about we split up?" Brom took a few more coins and gave them to Katrina, telling her to and the other two girls to buy some supplies and wait for him outside Therinsford. Then he turned to the three cousins. "You boys better help me with the horses. Mind you, those don't come cheap so we better find a way to get some funds soon enough or you kids will run me dry before we even reach Yazuac."

After a few minutes spent asking around for someone who sells horses, they eventually found a big, barn. The doors were open wide so Brom stepped in with the boys. Stalls held horses and some riding equipment. A muscular man brushed a white stallion. Murtagh stared at it curiously. "That's a beautiful horse," he said in amazement.

"His name is Snowfire. Mine's Haberth." The man gave them a friendly smile.

"I'll be needing five horses with complete equipment. The fastest and toughest you've got. My sons and I have much traveling to do," Brom said. "The name's Neal."

"Oh, triplets?" Haberth rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Animals like those are not exactly cheap but I have ones who will be up for the job."

"Price is not a problem," said Brom. "Just give me the best ones you've got."

Haberth tied the white stallion behind a stall and walked around the stable. "Five horses but there are four of you?" He picked out four horses – black, bay, palomino and gray. "What are you going to do with the other one?"

"We are to fetch one of my sons' bride before we are to leave. They are to wed in Teirm because her parents live there." Brom was many things, and he sure was a quick thinker too. "It's a long journey ahead."

"I'd rather not sell Snowfire here – I was planning to sire a whole line from him. It would make a good gift though." Haberth stroke a horse's flank. "You could have my five finest horses for seven hundred crowns."

While Brom haggled and made a deal with him, Eragon strode over to Snowfire and tried opening his mind to it like he did with his companions and the dragons. It wasn't as clear as he would have liked but it was enough for him to tell the horse that he was a friend. Snowfire pawed the ground and stared at Eragon with his dark, liquid eyes.

Brom gave the horses' reins to Eragon. "Wait for me outside Therinsford," he said quickly before sneaking away.

"That old man loves to do things his way," muttered Eragon.

_Where are you, little one?_ Saphira sent him an image of a massive mountains where she feasted on a deer that she caught by herself.

_Still in Therinsford. Brom asked for us to wait outside the village while he – er – does his own business. Whatever that is._ Eragon sighed as he followed Roran and Murtagh towards the outskirts of the village. _I wish he could tell us more about what he's planning instead of leaving us confused when he decides to do something._

_The old one knows what he is doing. You should let him do it his own way._With that, Saphira closed their connection.

"Talking to Saphira?" Murtagh asked quietly.

"Yes." Eragon ran a hand through his hair. "That man is giving me a headache."

The girls were already outside Therinsford. Arya and Nasuada were feeding their horses – Morgana and Wildwood – while Katrina was staring at the sky. Wind whipped her hair and made it look like dancing strands of copper wires. Roran's jaw dropped, making his cousins snicker. He gave them a dirty look that made them laugh harder.

Arya gave them a dirty look. "You're being… disruptive. Your friend is trying to contact her dragon."

"What's wrong with Luneria?" Roran crossed his arms and strode towards her.

"She's fine." Katrina let out a huff of breath. "She's just a little upset. She doesn't get along with Solaris that well." She noticed the horses and ran towards the palomino horse, stroking its nose. "They're beautiful creatures."

_Do you think that those horses are beautiful?_ Saphira asked Eragon. There was a hint of uncertainty in her thoughts.

Eragon kept himself from snorting. _They're beautiful, but not as beautiful as you._

Brom arrived shortly, looking around with cautious eyes. "Enduriel and the Ra'zac were seen flying overhead yesterday. They sent most villagers running for their homes in terror. Apparently our orange Forsworn has made an impressionable visit a few years ago."

"I've been wondering lately about how we could contact not only our bonded dragon but also people. I even managed to touch Snowfire's mind earlier." Eragon pressed his lips together.

"That usually takes years of training for Riders – even just the attempt of contacting another person was difficult for most of the younger initiates. You children feel like exceptions to the rule. You all have so much promise." Brom took the bay horse's reins. "Choose your horses and unload your pack and put the contents in the saddlebags before tying the pack on top."

"Snowfire is yours, little brother," Murtagh said, grabbing the black stallion and handing the gray one to Roran. "We should name these guys."

Katrina gazed doubtfully at the palomino mare. She put a hand to its forehead and smiled. "I name you Lyseris," she murmured.

Roran cautiously began to unload his pack. "Bear the name Stormdance well, or I'll let the Urgals eat you," he joked. The horse snorted angrily. "Oh, I was just joking!"

"Can't think of anything but Coaldust." Murtagh grunted and tried to mount his horse. Coaldust shifted slightly, making his new owner fall on his backside. "Really, this is harder than riding a dragon and that's no easy feat."

"Well, what will you name yours?" Eragon asked Brom.

Brom eyed his horse. "Shesnir." He grunted as he watched Eragon struggle with his pack. He was tying Undbitr to his belt, and the pale blue sheath caught light.

After giving a few pointers, they began their travel south. Teirm was still very far away, and they might not reach it until spring. It would give them ample time for training though. When they face the Ra'zac and possibly Enduriel too, they will be stronger. Their travels brought them to wilder land, where weeds, brambles and wild flowers grew. The rocks made the place look less welcoming. Eventually they reached a path that branched – one led ahead while one began to wind through Utgard. A crumbling tower stood there, a lonely sentinel from ancient times.

"That's Edoc'sil. It was called such because the Riders believed that it was unconquerable." Arya smiled in mixed awe and sadness. "It is difficult to climb that without flying but I believe that we can do it with our horses. The last free Riders called it Ristvak'baen. 'The place of sorrow', they believed it to be."

"Aye, and that's our destination." Brom sighed. "Call your dragons. They must see this place, for it is part of your legacy as dragon and Rider."

"What will we be doing there?" Murtagh asked.

Brom smiled knowingly as he steered Shesnir towards the long-abandoned road. "We will be getting you a proper Rider's sword, of course."

A soft wind blew around them, as if lamenting the loss of the Riders from the past. The road was steep and rocky, and it only led halfway up the mountain. At its very end were the six dragons, shining in the afternoon sun. Weeds grew on and around the forsaken road. An aura of general neglect surrounded them.

"No road, but our horses are still capable of climbing." Arya surveyed the land around her.

"We will have to fly up there. I'm sure one of you could give me a ride up." Brom dismounted his horse already before any of the six Riders have. "It will be faster that way. We have to cover as much distance as we can tonight. It is not advisable for us to linger here too."

After tying their horses to rocks, Arya uttered a strange word that made faint green light shimmer around the horses. She talked about a simple ward – whatever it was. The Riders mounted their partners and Brom clung to Eragon in excitement as Saphira consented to give him a ride. It seemed to strain her a little but it didn't seem to matter much anyway. With loud, challenging roars, the dragons flew up to Edoc'sil.

Eragon let out a whoop of joy. He missed spending time with Saphira and having a saddle between them reduced the discomfort and pain from her scales. The flight was shorter than he wanted but at least he enjoyed it. They landed at the entrance to a massive marble tower that wasn't as run down as it seemed.

_This place holds so much sadness._ Saphira patiently waited for Eragon and Brom to dismount before pawing the ground. She closed her blue eyes – the shade startlingly similar to her Rider's – and let out a puff of smoke. _They will pay._

"Yes. We will make them pay." Eragon watched the other dragons land and their Riders dismount.

Brom nodded and led them inside. The interior was quite empty and was also made of white marble. A spiral staircase ran on one side, leading to other levels of the tower but was blocked by massive broken chunks of marble that seemed difficult to move away by hand. Massive stone statues of six dragons circled the room. Sheathed swords hung between their teeth, their silver hilts gleaming. Brom stood beside the nearest one and pulled out a blade.

It held an egg-shaped moonstone on its golden pommel, and the sheath gleamed like liquid moonlight. "This is Skymning – dusk. It was the sword of Marcheesa, partner of the dragon Opheila. She was a noble Rider who died to defend Vroengard from Morzan's angry dragon."

Katrina's eyes widened as she received Skymning. She unsheathed the blade, which gleamed more than regular gray blades did. It shone like a ray of moonlight. "For me?"

Brom smiled and took the next sword. It was a startling gold blade with a golden gem resting on its pommel. Eragon knew that it was called a sunstone – Merlock the trader prided himself in some brilliant-cut gems of the same kind. "This was called Gryning, or dawn. The owner was Anessa, twin sister of Marcheesa and the Rider of Linden. She fell while covering the elves' retreat to the protective trees of Du Weldenvarden. She died to save the elven king himself." He revealed a bit of the blade, which was like a drop of golden sunshine.

Nasuada received the blade with shaking fingers. "I'm not much of a swordsman but… thanks."

The next sword was a shining shade of green with a emerald on its pommel. "This is Jordskalv, or earthquake. It was the sword of Jilden, Rider of Lodor. He fell in defense of Vroengard too, murdered by Galbatorix himself."

"I am honored." Arya bowed as she finally held her blade. "I am not worthy of this blade but I will use it to keep Jilden's legacy."

_You are too formal, my little Rider._ Firnen rolled one big green eye.

_Pointy-eared two-legs are too respectful of others, aren't they?_ Saphira let out a grating chuckle.

Brom picked up a rich violet sword with a dark-colored amethyst set on the pommel. "Alksvadr is known as thunderstorm in our common tongue. The owner was Grendel the sky terror, partner in mind and heart of Brenil and specialized in stormy magic spells. He died by Enduriel's blade and protected Palancar Valley from being razed to the ground."

Roran closed his eyes, trying to compose himself as his fist closed around the sword's hilt. "I will avenge Grendel. I promise."

"That we will," agreed Eragon.

"Eldsvard or firebrand was the sword of Ellina, Rider of Rubina. She and her brothers were Riders who were – were fooled by Morzan and lost so much because of it. She seduced and was murdered by Morzan, but not before she managed to buy the dwarves enough time to escape." Brom looked sad as he presented Murtagh with the dazzling red blade that was set with a ruby.

_Morzan has caused so much death and destruction._ Thorn looked uncomfortable as he regarded everyone before him. _He will burn._

Murtagh smiled and patted his dragon's neck. "We'll avenge their deaths."

Brom finally held the last sword – a rich blue adorned by a sapphire. "Kylskada – frostbite – was the sword owned by Servan, one of Ellina's brothers and Rider of Marennis. He was abducted, tortured and killed by the Forsworn Kialandi and Formora and they failed to gain information about the elves."

Eragon closed his fist around the sword and felt its power. It was a tool of death and destruction but it was also something beautiful. Emotion overwhelmed him. A legend of an order that was thousands of years old rested upon him and only five others. He let out a long puff of breath. "I wish that we weren't so… alone."

_You're not alone. You have me. You have us._ Saphira licked Eragon's cheek.

Brom strode towards the corner of the room. Six bows and quivers of arrows hung from the walls, protected from the outside world. "We anticipated the arrival of six Riders since there were also six eggs. These are the best ones that elves can make."

Arya took one and tested it gently. "Yes, this is better than anything I've used before."

The Riders took one each. Nasuada smiled in excitement. "I'm no swordswoman but you can always trust me with a bow."

They finally reached the edge of the mountains near nightfall. A wide stretch of flat, tan plains unfolded before them and made Eragon's jaw drop. Crossing them on foot would have been impossible. Roads wound around it, leading to various other settlements in the empire. The dragons circled above them, trying to mimic colorful birds as much as they can.

"Descending will take the most out of tomorrow." Brom surveyed the plains before them in distaste. "We'll have to make camp soon. There are a few nomads nearby but the nearest settlements will require us to travel three days at the least and a couple of weeks at the most."

They camped by the Anora River which gurgled peacefully. The dragons landed and drank from it happily. _The plains remain unchanged. Nothing but scrub and scrawny rabbits,_ reported Solaris. She strode towards her Rider, whose appearance looked like it should once more.

Most of the night right after dinner was a sparring session. Brom taught them everything that he could, and though Arya was supposed to be a powerful elf, her youth made her as difficult to teach as her human companions. The dragons watched in amusement once more as their Riders were beaten badly by Brom, one by one.

Morning brought a lot of body pains. Murtagh was cussing as they began their descent from the mountains. The trail was rough and the horses jostled them as they made their way down it. The dragons flew high above them, doing their best to impersonate birds. Eragon found himself walked beside Arya as they dismounted and led their horses through a treacherous slope. "Did you do this on the way to Carvahall?"

"Must you always ask questions?" Arya shot back at him. She broke into a smile. "Oh, yes we did. This is the only way out of the Spine, human. Our thirteen guards made it easier for us but I can't attempt such feats."

"That's too bad." Eragon stumbled and almost pushed Snowfire down the cliff, but Arya grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back. "I'm sorry."

"It's not a problem." Arya frowned at the sky. "Is it your first time outside the valley?"

Eragon nodded. He looked ahead once more, at the vast plains that seemed wild and lonely at the same time. "It is. I've never even been to Therinsford before."

Arya smiled. "I've travelled fast thanks to elf magic but it won't serve us well. I hope we learn some more special Rider skills that could help us travel faster and better."

"Well, I'm expecting that to happen soon. And maybe have some swordfighting skills to come with it too. Getting beaten up by Brom gets tiring eventually." A soft chuckle escaped Eragon's lips as they finally reached a more stable ground. He tightened his hold on Snowfire's reins. "I thought elves were supposed to be different. You can easily pass as a human – er, without the pointy ears."

Arya hit his arm hard, making his muscles ache badly. The elf girl smiled. "I haven't gotten around to learning my people's mysterious ways. I spend time with Rhunon too much too. She doesn't think too highly of the elves' formal, reserved manners."

They refilled their waterskins in the Anora River as they finally reached the , which was flowing away from the direction that they took. Brom crossed his arms as they rested for a bit. "We're heading for Teirm, so the nearest village ahead will be Yazuac. It's four days away if we're lucky, and we won't get to refill our waterskins until we reach Yazuac. We'll pass by the Anora once more later and you have to get your fill of water once we reach it."

The strong winds were cold but left the group feeling hot all over. It left Nasuada feeling irritable too. From where she came from, it was always a comfortable temperature. She somehow enjoyed the winter but the dry wind of the plains wore her out. She missed the elven magic that protected them from the violent winds.

She rode beside the ruby Rider, the one called Murtagh. His reddish-brown eyes were somehow unsettling. His protectiveness over Eragon reminded Nasuada of the way that her older siblings hovered over her most of the time. It all changed when Solaris hatched for her. Her brother finally acknowledged that she didn't need protection but her sister began to resent her – and it hurt.

"Do I bother you, pretty one?" Murtagh asked with a smile. He looked good-looking that way, a finer version of his twin brother.

Nasuada chuckled. "You don't bother me. None of you do. Home bothers me."

Murtagh bit his lip. "Home – a family… I wonder what growing up with your parents feels like?"

"I never knew my mother." Nasuada shrugged. "She died when I was born, but father loved me and my siblings enough that we didn't even hunger for her love. I'm sure your uncle loved you like his own sons too."

Murtagh looked away from her. He was probably talking to Thorn. "Still, it would be nice to know where we came from. It upsets Eragon, you know, thinking about why our mother could have left us behind."

_We never knew who laid our eggs – or our sire._ Solaris' voice rang inside Nasuada's head. _I do know that Firnen and Luneria were in the same batch as I._

_You've met my siblings and Hiseria wasn't exactly friendly with both of us when she found out about you. Just be glad that you seem to get along well with your – er – siblings._ Nasuada smiled and she caught Murtagh staring at her. "Oh, sorry. It was Solaris telling me that she actually had siblings. Seems like Firnen and Luneria are hers."

They camped out in the open that night. The wind made it difficult to light a fire and Roran had a few choice curse words to describe it. He swallowed his annoyance down though. He glanced at Brom, who was trying to light his pipe too. He failed to light up the fire too though. He rearranged the brush a couple of time but also failed.

"Brisingr!" hissed Brom as he struck the flint once more. The brush caught fire and the old storyteller smiled. "It was smoldering inside."

Roran noticed Arya grinning. "Brom, that wasn't a curse word. Brisingr meant 'fire.' I guess you're hopeless," the elf said with a chuckle.

Brom stood up and grumbled as dinner began to cook. He handed around some wooden makeshift swords and smiled. "You're not getting a break," he said with a chuckle. "So any brave volunteers for tonight?"

Everyone groaned but Roran stood up. He wondered if it was because of the years that he spent being the eldest brother to his cousins. They were the inseperable triplets and he always stood up to them. He wasn't going to let them take the first beating. He hefted his wooden sword, testing its balance cautiously. "I'm in."

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**Thank you for the reviews! I really appreciate them and about Garrow? Oh, you'll see :D**

**You might want to check out my story in fictionpress, it's called The Girl With Burning Hands and I'm using the same pen name there!~**


	8. A Rider's Power

**Disclaimer: How I wish Eragon and Arya did end up with each other but nooo. CP had to tear them apart. Where's the flipping epic romance that Angela predicted?**

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**Chapter 8: A Rider's Power**

They were on the way to Yazuac. With the help of Arya's minor grasp in magic, they managed to fend off a little of the wind and stay warm when a storm struck during their third day. The display of magic awed Katrina, who has never seen anything like it before. She grew up listening to whispers of fear and awe whenever people talked about elves and magic users. Now she was seeing it firsthand and she was even part of a legend – a Rider.

_We spot strange creatures ahead._ Luneria's voice announced to the six Riders and Brom. She sent them an image of a group of horned people with grayish skin and ragged armor. Black horns jutted from their heads. _What are they?_

Brom muttered a curse under his breath. "Urgals. Two dozen, heading for Yazuac."

Panic welled up in Katrina. Though the others were teaching her about shooting arrows and Brom was teaching them about the sword, she was no fighter. If the Urgals were headed for the village of Yazuac, the people there would be utterly decimated and they had to help. Riders protected the people of the land.

Roran grabbed his bow. "What should we do? We can't just let them march to Yazuac and murder the villagers."

"No." Brom pressed his lips together. "You'll get killed."

The dragons roared overhead. _We will fight. Don't worry, little ones._ Firnen assured them. _We're far enough from Yazuac so we won't be noticed. Yet. So let's make short work of this._

The dragons began to swoop down in the general direction of the Urgals. Arya snarled. "They're reckless! We have to help them!" Her eyes began to tear up in panic. "We can't let the unsuspecting humans be attacked either."

Katrina grabbed her new bow and an arrow from the quiver hanging across her back. She hoped that she could at least shoot properly. Her hands were shaking so much that she would surely miss all of the shots she would attempt. She followed the others who led their horses towards the Urgals. They might hurt Luneria or any of the others and she could't let that happen.

She spotted the Urgals steadily marching towards Yazuac, which was still half a day's ride away. They walked slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. They didn't notice the six dragons hovering ahead yet, probably thinking that they were large and colorful birds.

They paused just out of earshot with Brom in the lead. He was holding Undbitr, its pale blue blade reflecting the sunlight. The six Riders nocked their bows in preparation as they closed the distance between the Urgals and the small group. Arya rode close to Katrina. "I know that this is your first time in a real situation involving archery. Just do what you have to. Don't hesitate and try your best to shoot something." She grinned mischievously.

Katrina gripped her bow so hard that her knuckles turned white. The dragons roared and dove towards the horned Urgals. She could feel Luneria's blinding rage and relished it. The anger will make the fight much easier. She raised her bow and loosed the arrow as Arya cried out something that set her arrow on fire.

The Urgals went crazy. Some of them tried to fend off the dragons but their crude weapons were no match for the gem-hard scales of the majestic creatures. One of them wielded a hammer that smashed into Solaris' wing and sent the golden dragon crashing down. Luneria, who was previously prone to arguing with the imposing dragoness, swooped down and tore into the Urgal with her claws. Solaris roared in pain, trashing and flailing. She threw down Urgals which the six Riders shot.

Brom leapt off his horse after tying its reins to Snowfire's saddle and charged at the Urgals with surprising speed and agility. He brandished his sword and slit the throat of one that was being buffeted by Saphira and Firnen's wings. Arya's burning arrow hit another that panicked and was trampled by an angry Solaris. Katrina narrowed her eyes and did her best to shoot the one which Thorn and Askanir pinned down with their tails. It missed the Urgal – and hit the one right behind it that was about to strike the ruby dragon.

_You missed your mark, but that was a nice save,_ Arya told her.

Katrina smiled and her next arrow killed the Urgal that tried to smash Brom with its ax. She heard Roran's roar of approval and her smile widened. She had a soft spot for that farmboy since they were little. Before she could nock her third arrow, the remaining Urgals doubled their efforts and hit Saphira's wing too. The slender sapphire dragon roared in pain as she crashed down and began to thrash like angry Solaris.

Unbidden, the Riders linked their minds as an inexplicable power began to rise and refused to be contained within Katrina. They spoke a single word as they fired an arrow. "Brisingr!"

Six arrows flew through the air with flashing lights that corresponded to the six dragons. They only hit a single Urgal and there was a powerful explosion that threw Roran and Eragon off their horses. A shockwave of colors blasted out of their arrows and killed the other Urgals immediately. It passed through Brom, the dragons and the Riders harmlessly before it dissipated.

Katrina's palm was glowing like crazy until it slowly faded. She was exhausted, as if she spent an entire day travelling hard. Luneria glanced at her with an iridescent eye. _Are you hurt?_ She flared her nostrils in anger.

"No. Are you?"

_No. You hatchlings have grown._ If Luneria was human, she probably would have smiled. She let her Rider know of her pride.

Brom looked tense. "We should hurry. There could be more nearby. Yazuac must be warned. Two dozen Urgals are dangerous enough for a village as small as that so they have to be ready." He mounted Shesnir, who snorted in fear of the dragons and the Urgals. "We will have a long talk along the way."

Arya leapt off her horse and approached the dragons. She laid a hand on Saphira and Solaris. "Waise heill." A soft green light flickered and the two she-dragons relaxed. They dipped their heads and probably thanked the young elf.

As they continued to Yazuac, Eragon couldn't contain his questions much longer. "What was that ability? Is it like the magic that Arya and the rest of her people use? Do all Riders have it too?" So many questions whirled in his head as Saphira and the other dragons took off once more, the injuries healed by Arya's spell.

"That was very dangerous. You don't have the elven stamina that Arya has – yet. You children could have gotten killed and destroyed the immediate area. Though I believe that your elf friend somehow guided and assisted you." Brom smiled in amusement. "I'm sure you had no idea about what you were doing."

"No, we didn't." Murtagh said. He glanced at his brother before turning his attention back to the storyteller. "How could we have used magic? I mean, if it really was magic. No one has ever thought us about it. We might need it again. Is it something that we can't learn until we're older?"

Brom crossed his arms grumpily. "You brothers will drive me crazy with your questions!"

Arya frowned. "Brom, even I was surprised. What did happen back there? I had no idea that they could use magic too."

"She's right! It wasn't in the stories." Even quiet and sweet Katrina couldn't hold her tongue.

"Fine." Brom lit his pipe as he glanced at his six pupils. "Now if you must know, magic has rules that must be followed with no exception. You are limited by your strength, skill, imagination and the words you know in the Ancient Language."

"It is the language of my people," explained Arya. "Like I said before, brisingr meant fire. My mother used to talk about the way that every living thing used to use it as their own language. It was long forgotten until my people came to Alagaesia from the sea. It has a word for everything but not even we know everything – not even its name."

Eragon raised an eyebrow curiously. "What does it have to do with magic?"

Brom was quiet for a while, deep in thought. "These words are the name for the things. Like brisingr is not just a term for fire but the name of fire itself. If you have enough strength, you can use that word alone to make fire do your bidding."

"Our magic had their own colors, didn't they?" Roran asked suddenly. "Like mine was violet and Nasuada's was gold. When Arya healed the dragons, hers was green."

"It depends on the person, actually. Even before Firnen hatched for me, my magic was always tinted green." Arya shrugged. "I think our magic matches the color of our dragons as a rule, but with enough practice my mother told me that we could make it look more natural. Most unskilled magic users need to spell out exactly what they want to do with their power. Sometimes you can do something with an unrelated word – like saying water and creating a sapphire. That's beyond my skill. It takes strength and practice. We did something difficult and I still don't know how we managed it."

_I think Brom is a magician. He lit the fire that night on the flames when he said brisingr! He's more than knowledgeable! He can use it himself,_ said Saphira. _Ask him more about this power, but do it carefully. Who knows what he wanted when he came to live in your village?_

Before Eragon could ask though, Nasuada beat him to it. "Solaris and I were talking, and she believes that you can use magic too. That windy night, you used it to light our fire, right?"

"I can use it, but I'm not knowledgeable or strong enough to do anything special with it," admitted Brom. They were nearing Yazuac by that time. "I'm not exactly young and a Rider will always be stronger than me. At full strength and with proper training, you six will be able to go toe to toe with a regular elf and probably best them too. We will do more once we pass through Yazuac so don't go experimenting before we continue."

"He's right." Arya frowned. "If we all used more energy than our body can afford, we could have gotten killed right then and there. We can't tell most of the time if our spells use too much energy or how much it will exactly take from us. Spells can't be stopped once they are released so a wrong experiment could get you killed."

They bought supplies in Yazuac, along with cloaks and gloves for the four Riders from Carvahall. A woman with an infant in her arms also sold them some meat and bought some deer and rabbit pelt that they brought, having hunted in the plains for the past few days. Brom also talked to a guard about the Urgals nearby. While he did, Eragon found himself examining the swords sold outside a blacksmith's forge. They looked sturdy and sharp but somehow they all paled in comparison to Undbitr and the other Rider swords.

"I remember that time when Horst almost lost his head screaming at us to get away from his anvil and hammer," Roran said with a chuckle as he stood behind his youngest cousin. "Albriech and Baldor wouldn't stop laughing."

The blacksmith Horst's sons, Albriech and Baldor, were blonde-haired, blue-eyed boys who were a little older than the Riders. They were born a year apart and were pretty friendly. They used to have friendly scuffles with the three farmboys but they got along well.

"Horst's eyes will probably pop out if he sees our swords," Eragon replied. He grinned in spite of the exhaustion, wonder and sadness that plagued him since they left Carvahall.

Once the group finally put Yazuac behind them, Arya released the magic that altered her and Nasuada's appearance. "Do you think that those humans will be alright? I mean, Urgals could decimate a small village like that."

"I think that they'll be fine now that they're alerted." Brom glanced at the human Riders. "The ability to use magic is a gift that all Riders have, though the fact is not well-known. I guess that it's a tactical advantage over their enemies. Besides, common people would constantly beg them to use their powers in solving mundane or impossible problems. Galbatorix and his Riders' powers are not there because they're wizards or sorcerers like people believe. It's because they're Riders."

"So it means that we're not wizards or sorcerers even with our magic?" asked Nasuada. She glanced at her gloved palm.

"No, I think that it's simply because you're Riders and I'm an elf. Well, technically I'm also a Rider but I've been using simple magic before that." Arya shrugged. "Sorcerers and Shades use spirits to accomplish magical feats. Magicians like most elves are born with the ability to tap into magic. Witches and wizards need potions to cast spells."

Brom nodded. He looked around absent-mindedly. "That makes Riders special, you see. Being bonded with a dragon gives them that gift, free of charge. Young Riders were not informed of it initially. They were trained to strengthen both their bodies and minds until their instructors have deemed them ready to begin their magic training. Students sometimes discovered their powers by accident and were immediately taken to advanced training if it happens."

"It must be rare, though," mused Murtagh. He looked down, as if trying to think of his next question. "So how are the students taught about magic?"

_If Brom tried to teach us about it a few days ago, my brain would have exploded before I understood it,_ Roran told his brothers.

Brom chuckled. He stopped Shesnir and jumped off to pick up some small pebbles before mounting his steed and continuing the journey once more. "Nigh impossible tasks were given to them. Moving stones with their feet, filing ever-draining tubs of water, that kind of thing. Frustration gave way to them suddenly discovering magic. Many people received this training, like Galbatorix, the Forsworn and most elves."

Arya cracked a smile. She held out her hands. "I learned, yes, but not as proficiently as that. Galbatorix would also tear me apart. I was always a horrible student so I hope that Brom could train me as a human too. It might help me learn more."

Eragon mulled that over for a moment. _That means that we can now learn magic?_

_I believe so, little two-legs. Try asking the old one if he could teach you._ Saphira's curiosity seeped through their link.

"So what can we do?" Eragon asked.

"I don't know much, myself, but we'll do our best to cover the basics as we go along. Strength of mind and body are important, and so is knowledge of the language and discipline. Yes, it is difficult but you have so much potential." Brom glanced at the sky, where the dragons were busy doing their best to impersonate colorful birds. They weren't that good with it though. "What you did was a feat that no other young Rider could ever have done."

"So how does magic work?"

"To use it, you need an innate power that is now rare among humans. This power must be summoned in order to be released. In order to release it and let it do your bidding, then you must control it with words from the Ancient Language. Like saying brisingr made you blow up those Urgals back there. It is also impossible to lie if you use this language in speech."

"What? But – but the sound of one language can't possibly govern that. People lie all the time," countered Nasuada.

Arya held out her hands and glanced at the sky. "Fethrblaka, eka weohnata néiat haina ono. Blaka eom iet lam." A bird flew towards her and landed on her hand. "Eitha…" she murmured after a while, and it flew away. "I promised not to harm the bird if it lands on my hand. The bird doesn't necessarily understand what I told it but the meaning was still there. Animals know deep inside them that anyone who speaks this language are bound by their word. Technically since my people speak this language, they can never lie but… words have double meanings. They might say one thing and mean another one."

Katrina cleared her throat. "Do names have meanings in this language too?"

Brom nodded in agreement. "This also gives people two names. One is a name, like ours. I'm Brom, she's Arya, you're Katrina… You get my point? This doesn't hold more power than what you already know. There is a second name though – your true name, and it is one which must not be shared to anyone but those that you can trust. It's like giving your life to someone else's hands. They can make you do their bidding with your true name. Most elves know theirs by instinct but others need to find other ways to know it. The truth can be terrible though. Some go insane with the knowledge of who they truly are."

_It won't break us,_ Saphira told her Rider.

_I'm sure that it won't,_ agreed Eragon. He voiced out the rest of his thoughts though. "It doesn't matter much. I'd still like to know mine."

"It's a quest that only you yourself can take. It might take months or years just to know part of it, so be glad that Riders live long lives." Brom smiled proudly. "It's good to know that you are resolute. We can't waver when we reach our goals. Now, back to magic. Healing is generally more exhausting than some kinds of magic as it takes the same energy that you would expend in healing an injury naturally. Resurrecting the dead is something else entirely, and it will kill you. So don't even think about it. Many have died. None succeed."

"Magic is complex. Even the elves who are supposed to know all and do all have died in attempting to raise the dead and see the past." Arya shook her head sadly. "If we truly were as powerful as people think we are then we wouldn't have lost our king ten years ago."

Brom gave the human Riders a pebble. "Now, see those pebbles? Try to tap into your magic and use the words stenr reisa to make them hover for a few seconds. It may seem impossible but it's not. Arya or I will say what is impossible and what isn't."

Eragon closed his eyes as he tried to tap into the power inside him again. His thoughts and memories were haphazardly pushed aside as he found that barrier that protected his new gift. It was resisting his attempts to breach it until he used the full force of his mind. The barrier broke and power flooded into him. It felt like a brilliant light within his mind. "S-stenr reisa!" he said. His hand glowed and the stone hovered a little before his control over magic broke and retreated deep within his mind once more.

Nearby, Roran's pebble jumped out of his hand and hit his face before landing on his palm once more. Murtagh's pebble staunchly refused to rise for a few seconds before momentarily hovering. Nasuada's hovered for a few seconds before landing on her lap. Katrina's was wobbly like Eragon's a few moments before it fell once more. Those with ungloved hands had glowing palms.

"Why are our palms acting like miniature lanterns?" asked Murtagh.

"I have no idea either," admitted Brom. "A Rider's gedwey ignasia made one the better hand for channeling magic when they begin training, though the other will eventually be as good as it. Only a Rider gets the glowing hands. I bought some gloves back in Yazuac for you to hide them. It would be wise not to alert the enemies whenever you start casting spells."

Arya snapped her fingers. "Oh, I must tell you something important! Magic is affected by distance so raising a pebble a bit farther away will tire you out more than that pebble on your palm ever will, so it would be better to cast magic somewhere nearer to you."

Eragon groaned. It felt like his mind was going to explode with all that information. "I hate rules."

_I hate them too, little one. Like the way that we are to be apart._ Saphira snorted.

"Now, again. You have to perfect it," said Brom.

Tired from magic training, the group camped out in the open once more that night. Brom began to teach them more words in the Ancient Language, such as delois for a small plant, vondr for a thin, straight stick and Aiedail for the morning star. Sparring followed the short language lesson as Arya finally joined them and was sorely beaten by Brom once more. That trend went on for days as they went through the plains. They slowly mastered the different spells that Brom taught them while manipulating the pebbles, learned about the Ancient Language around the campfire and sparred after dinner.

Slowly but surely, they began to improve. Magic wasn't that difficult to summon and control anymore. They managed to land hits on Brom and bruise him lightly too. The six dragons continued to grow and stayed fit with their hunting trips. They were taller than the horses and longer than them, their muscles growing stronger. They sparkled like gems but all of them refused to cover up with dirt. Thorn angrily threatened to bite Brom when he suggested it.

Nobody traveled through the area during the lazy, late winter season and their travel went peacefully during that time. They neared Daret a few days later but Brom wanted them to approach under the light of day.

That night, Eragon had a dream.

_An angry wind howled as a young woman ran from a massive estate. She was dressed in a simple red velvet dress with pearls binding her hair. A pack was slung over her back. She was tall and beautiful, with reddish-brown hair and big, blue eyes. Her lips were painted a subtle red. The darkness around her felt suffocating, and she stumbled as she reached the dark steel gates._

_ A cloaked man caught her in his arms, the reins of two stallions in his hands. "Hurry, hurry," he said in a strangely familiar voice._

_ The woman pursed her lips and nodded as she mounted a pale brown horse. "I'm pregnant."_

_ The cloaked man froze momentarily before digging his heels on his horse, making it trot. "Then it will be so much more important for us to hurry before you give birth. How long do you have?" he asked. "Is it his or mine?"_

_ "Yours." The woman rode beside him, a hand on her belly. "We have about five months."_

Eragon woke up, his hands shaking. He found Saphira watching him. "Oh. It was just a dream."

_I'm sure that it means something. We will understand when it's time._ Saphira hummed and rested her head beside Eragon's. _All will be well. Now rest, little one._

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**A/N: So we'll discuss a few stuff here. A lot of people have been asking things so I'll do my best to be all "mysterious and cryptic." Naaaah. I'll do my best to answer them without spoiling anything.**

**The three swords from the original book (Zar'roc, Tamerlein and Brisingr) will eventually pop up but not in the way you might be expecting. The twins have only one father, but who it is will be revealed soon. I think you guys know who it is by now, though. And yes, they will follow the original route that Eragon and Brom took, but with different adventures, of course! :) **

**Saphira demands your reviews! :D**


	9. Rider Training

**Disclaimer: Not mine, dudes!**

**Ugh, another short chapter. :( It doesn't feel right to lump this in a chapter along with the beginning of their adventure in Teirm. Anyway, some people might have missed chapter 7 and the Rider's swords but 'tis okay! I still love you guys.**

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**Chapter 9: Rider Training**

Daret was a wary city with some defenders that almost shot them with arrows when they entered the vicinity. The people were cautious and exhausted after fending off Urgal attacks. After bringing news from Yazuac, selling a few rabit pelt and purchasing some meat, the small group of travelers went on their way once more.

As soon as they were out of sight, the dragons began to circle above them once more. Brom glanced at his pupils. Worry filled his reddish eyes. "Things are definitely much worse. Urgals are amassing and the last time it happened, things weren't exactly pretty. Attack is impending but the king is making no move at all to protect his precious Empire."

Arya shook her head, bothered by those words. Though she hated it, she couldn't help it if she knew a thing or two about ruling. "A ruler needs to protect his people," she said. "No matter what the cost."

"There should be troops upon troops of Imperial Soldiers and a couple of the Forsworn marching around, though we're quite lucky that there are none." Nasuada shrugged. She did look nervous though.

"Now, did any of you use your powers in Daret?" Brom asked.

"Er, were we supposed to?" Eragon asked. For a fairly good-looking human boy, he had so many questions that nobody could resist answering.

Arya snorted. "Of course we were, silly. We could have used our minds to sense the people's intentions and know if they truly meant us no harm. It's basically the same way that we could communicate with our dragons or each other but only people who are aware of this ability can sense if someone is intruding in their minds. Anybody with sufficient training can do it, but you could only get clear results with a dragon or another person. People can do it to you too."

_Does that mean that Brom might be reading other little two-legs' minds without them noticing?_ Firnen asked as he showed Arya a new trick – making loops while flying. His joy resounded as he roared overhead, making Brom cringe. _Oops, did I overdo it?_

_ Er, yes, I believe that you didn't have to roar in joy. People might hear you._ Arya suppressed a chuckle.

"So does that mean that someone might be reading our thoughts right now without us knowing?" Murtagh asked cautiously. The elder brother, no less good-looking, had as much questions as his twin. "Can we do something about it?"

"Few people can detect it if someone is trying to read their mind, and even fewer can prevent this from happening." Brom pursed his lips. "A good thing about being a Rider is that it automatically makes it easier for you to detect someone in your mind. Blocking them is another thing. Just concentrate on a single thing and exclude everything else. Don't let anything distract you. It's difficult and need a lot of practice for you to perfect it."

"I haven't mastered that yet." Arya told him. "I'm looking forward to that. Most of my people are proficient in it. We should practice sometime."

The dragons waited for them in a wide open space. Their appearance still amazed Arya. Thorn, who was nearest, blew a puff of smoke in Brom's general direction, making the horses nervous. _Old one, you keep us away from our Riders._

_Thorn, don't be silly,_ argued Luneria. _The old one is trying to teach the little ones more about how a Rider must fight._ She moved forward to nudge Thorn away from Brom.

_But he's right. A Rider is a Rider because they ride dragons. Us._ Solaris growled at Brom, who went white. _Learning how to ride and be with us should be part of Rider training, is it not?_

"Forgive me," said Brom. He bowed to the dragons. "I should have thought of that sooner. Of course your Riders may accompany you. This will make training faster too. I will train three on the ground during the morning and three will be on the sky, getting to know more about each other, their dragons and being a team."

That night, Arya and the human Riders defeated Brom in sword training one by one, with Eragon snapping the staff that the old man was using, culminating the sparring session in just a few minutes. Brom smiled in amazement while Murtagh and Roran hooted. The dragons sat still behind their Riders in surprise.

_Did you see that, pointy-ears? Blue-eyed-two-legs Eragon beat the old one!_ Firnen chuckled.

_Aye, he's better at the blade than I. And he didn't even hesitate to smash the wooden sticks to bits. Huh._ Arya shrugged.

"We're done with wooden branches." Brom threw his to the fire. Take out your swords. We're going to start training with them now."

"What? But we'll cut ourselves into pieces!" objected Roran. He raised Alksvadr's violet blade to eye level and narrowed his eyes.

Arya smiled and laid a hand on Jordskalv, wondering at its beautiful green hue. She never saw a sword as beautiful yet deadly as it before. She focused on the power within her, which may have come easier than it did for her human companions but was just as potent. "You forget magic, of course. Geuloth du knifr," she murmured. A deep green spark appeared between her fingers and she ran it down the length of her sword, making sure to pass all sharp edges and its pointed tip.

"What did you do?" Eragon asked curiously, his hand poised over his own sword.

"I dulled the edge." Arya passed her sword to him with a proud smile. "Here, check it out. Then try it on your own sword."

Once the six Riders were ready, they resumed their sparring session with Brom. The swords felt clumsier than the wooden sticks and were heavier too. Being hit by Brom's Undbitr also caused worse bruises than before. Arya didn't care. She was having so much fun for the first time in her sixteen years.

When morning came, Arya looked forward to riding with Firnen. On their way to Carvahall it was barely possible as Firnen wasn't big enough yet. Even the short flight that culminated in meeting the four other Riders tired him out. Now though, he was the right size for a leisurely flight and he was definitely strong enough for it. After a quick breakfast of bread and some berries that Brom bought from Daret, Arya stood before her vivid green dragon. The ones who were to have their Riders after noon already went away.

_Are you ready, little pointy-ears?_ Firnen asked.

_I would appreciate it if you call me anything but that. And yes, I'm ready._ Arya smiled as she clambered up Firnen's back.

Saphira and Thorn lumbered towards them with their respective Riders. Eragon gave her a friendly smile. "So, my lone elven friend, are you ready?" he asked while patting Saphira's neck with a gloved hand.

"Friend?" Arya raised an eyebrow.

"We've got a lot of adventures ahead. We're Riders and we'll probably work together for a long time so might as well as treat each other like friends." Murtagh shrugged, as if reading his brother's mind – which he probably was doing.

Arya never had friends. There were few elf children and those born around the same time as her never really wanted to be around her. She had status, yes, but it made her an outcast. "I like that."

* * *

The rushing wind terrified Eragon. He clung to Saphira's saddle as the dragons roared and effortlessly took the skies. The wispy clouds felt easy to reach at their height and the winding Ninor River was just a silver thread of yarn. The crisp, chilly air invigorated him. His stomach lurched as the dragons began to spin. "What are you doing? It feels like I'm going to fall off!" he yelled as they straightened again.

_Get used to it. That's the most basic move that I can do if we have to fight on air._ Saphira snorted. She gave Firnen and Thorn long looks. They seemed to be communicating but excluded their Riders. _Let us show you young ones what it means to truly be a dragon and a Rider._

_What are you talking about?_ Eragon gripped Saphira's saddle harder, making sure that the leg straps were in place.

_Just relax._ Saphira showed him her excitement as she gently tugged at his mind, gently easing into control. After his vision blurred momentarily, he realized that he was starting to see through his dragon's eyes. Everything was the same, except for the fact that the hues seemed a little different. The blues were brighter, red, green and yellow more subdued.

He couldn't move his body. It was like he and Saphira became one being. He could feel her joy and pride, while she could feel his amazement. He could feel every beat of her wings, every movement of her muscle. Slowly it became difficult to distinguish between their minds. Her wings were his, his legs were hers. With a loud roar, they raced with the two male dragons who have linked fully with their own Riders.

As their flight slowed, their minds began to separate once more. Eragon could feel the wind whipping at his face but not the movement of Saphira's tail. "How could you bear to not keep flying all day?" he asked.

_I get hungry too, little one._ Saphira's joy resonated through their link but after the way they joined minds, it didn't feel complete. _I'm pleased to know that you enjoyed it._

"Enjoyed it? That was amazing!" Eragon grinned. "We should do this often. Why do you see so much blue?"

Saphira let out a rumbling laugh. _Of course. I see – blue – because it is the way I am. I see more of my color._

The three Riders and their dragons talked in their minds as they flew, sharing insights and experiences, though Arya refused to share much about the elves and the Varden. It really was hard to earn a stranger's trust, but Eragon didn't mind.

They also began to learn about blocking their thoughts. Arya told them that it would be good for them to train together before pitting themselves against Brom that afternoon. They did some excercises, blocking their minds from their dragons and each other for the longest period of time. It was good enough for them but against Brom, they still weren't good enough.

Once they neared noon, they began resting their minds and talked casually again. _I wonder what the sea is like…_ Murtagh mused.

_Must be big. And full of water. Maybe little scaly-thorny-fish,_ rumbled Thorn.

_Don't be ridiculous, it's also probably full of other delicious creatures,_ Saphira told him.

_My people came from the sea,_ shared Arya. _My people say that there is so much emotion in it. Angry and calm waves, the serene or stormy winds, the smell itself. I've never seen it, of course, but the oldest of my kind often reminisce. _To be honest, she wanted to have her first view of the sea, which was why she looked forward to their trip in Teirm.

* * *

That night, they camped by the Spine's foothills. The following days took them through its mountainous embrace, which comforted Eragon. Being in the wide open space of the plains unsettled him so much. It took them tree days before they reached a heavily used road that had marks from wagon wheels.

"This is a main road. It connects Teirm and Uru'baen. We must be cautious even if this time of the year isn't exactly busy," said Brom.

Lessons still took over their days of traveling. Whether it was with the dragons or Brom, there was always something new to do and learn. It strengthened them all, and stripped their bodies of baby fats, making them fit and lean. They followed the seaward leg of the Toark River, which led them through the Spine and to Teirm. On their last night before Teirm, they camped out in a ledge that let them see the massive seaside city.

"Teirm is said to be the place where our people's ships landed," Arya told them. "I read that somewhere in my father's old library."

"Its citadel has never fallen. Nor has its warriors been defeated. It was built upwards, with the lowest buildings nearest the walls. The buildings are taller the deeper you go through the city, the citadel in the center being the highest point." Brom closed his eyes, as if enjoying the warmth of the fire. "Ride your horses until we reach Teirm. More people are bound to suspect and see the dragons the closer we get to the city."

"Will we use our own names?" Murtagh asked nervously.

"I will be Neal. Eragon will be Evan, you will be Martin and Roran will be Randall. You are my triplet sons who travelled with their new wives to assist me in meeting with an old business partner who is to provide you with jobs." Brom furrowed his brows. He glanced at the girls thoughtfully. "Arya, you go with Eragon. Use the name Alwina. Murtagh, you will accompany Nasuada, Nyla while we are here. Kat, you have Roran anyway. Use your name, it's not that unusual anyway. Tomorrow, we ride to Teirm. Don't give your real names away. Things might become messy."

* * *

**Answers time!**

**Brisingr and some brand new Rider swords will pop up in the retelling of, well, Eldest, actually :D Tamerlein and Zar'roc? I don't want to spoil what happens to them yet but yes, Morzy is alive. I'm not sure if the right brother gets Brisingr though, because I'm thinking of giving it to the other one. xD**

**Do review! Saphira LUUURVES reviews. Your enthusiasm makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. D'awwww!**


	10. Merchant of Teirm

**Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly.**

**A quick update while at work. I have no Internet connection at home over the weekend, since our main line is busted. So, uh, enjoy! :) And catch that Shakespeare reference.**

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**Chapter 10: Merchant of Teirm**

A fog settled upon the land as morning came. It continued that way for a while until the west wind blew the fog away. The white walls of the city were near, and they could even see the massive ships docked nearby. The sound of the thundering sea could be heard in the background as the salty morning air greeted them. Roran could see the massive citadel rising near the very heart of the city.

"Do you think that they haven't heard of us yet – or maybe have some Forsworn in there?" asked Roran.

Brom's face darkened. "Let's hope no news about us reached this place yet. As for the Forsworn, Enduriel would be busy right now and the others will also be in their respective estates in Uru'baen. They hate winter and rarely venture to the Spine area. It makes Enduriel's – visit – to your home much more disturbing."

Roran felt hatred for the traitorous elven Rider once more. It felt like his vision was tinted with red. He clenched his fists to contain the feeling. He noticed the others staring at him. "Then we'll have to be extra careful and avoid attention once we're inside."

_You're leaving us again,_ whined Askanir.

_It won't be long. I hope. We won't get into much danger. _Roran sighed. _Just go with the others and hide well._

_Fine. If something bad happens to any of you, we're going to pin you on our backs and never let you go ever again._

_You're the best dragon I could ever have._

_ I will bind you worse than that, brave one._

Brom led his students towards the gate, where a yellow pennant hung. The immensity of Teirm was so hard to comprehend. As they talked about the previous night, Roran stayed close to Katrina. The guards by the gates stood tall and proud, their plate armor gleaming in the pale sunlight. One of them jabbed a spear in the general direction of the travelers.

"Who goes there?" he snarled.

Brom gave him a bubbly smile that was way out of character for the man. "The name's Neal," he said in a wheezy voice that made him sound older than he looked. "My triplet sons are all married with no jobs!"

"What my father means is that he's here to get us some work with an old friend of his," Roran explained. "You know, to better support our family."

"Quite young to have wives, in my opinion," the guard said, squinting at them.

"'Tis a family tradition of ours, lad!" hissed Brom. He gave the man a big, theatric glare that could have sent a lord cowering. "Don't you dare insult it."

"Had a bit too much of the sun when he was young," Murtagh said, cutting into Brom's rant before it caused a problem.

Eragon nodded vigorously. "He's had a bit of the brain fever," he supplied.

The guard nodded in understanding. "My dad was like that when he worked in the king's army. Wasn't quite right when he went home after serving his years of duty. Well go ahead. Keep an eye on your dad. He won't be around forever." He sighed sadly.

"Yes, sir!" Roran said. That bothered him. Did it mean something about his father?

They rode into Teirm, where the houses were grim and the citadel overlooked them. "Touch of brain fever and had too much sun, eh?"

"What?" Murtagh asked meekly.

Eragon grinned. "Can't let you have all the fun, old man."

The people of Teirm warily looked at the seven travelers. The men all had swords hanging from their belts and most women had daggers. The city truly was made differently, with the houses near the walls being one story high and the buildings getting taller as they neared the citadel – the highest point of the city. It would have been easy to shoot arrows without accidentally hitting something else. Roran never saw a city planned like that.

_I still wish you didn't have to go there,_ said Askanir.

_I'm not happy with this arrangement either,_ replied Roran.

The streets were empty of children, and a lot of houses were abandoned. It gave the area a subtle sense of loss. The place definitely had its fair share of trouble. Roran shook his head. Living somewhere secluded like Carvahall may have felt safe but you barely knew what was happening to the rest of Alagaesia.

They ended up in a tavern called the Green Chestnut. Brom motioned for Roran and Eragon to follow him, leaving the others to look after the place was dark and dingy, with a dying fire on one corner and a vague smell of vomit. A few people drank in their own lonely spots. One man had two missing fingers and eyed the newcomers with interest. The bartender was wiping a broken glass with a dirty rug.

Brom leaned against the bar, all traces of his silly persona by the city gates gone. "Do you know a man named Jeod?" he asked quietly.

Roran glanced at Eragon, who looked as uneasy as he felt. _This isn't going to end nicely._

_ By the lost kings, I hope you're wrong._ Eragon's eye twitched.

"Teirm is really big, my old man," the bartender said, making Brom bristle in annoyance. To be fair, he barely looked younger than the storyteller – maybe in his late thirties to early fifties. The bartender didn't notice the man's irritation. "There are many places and even more people living in here. That's not counting the refugees from the south and east, plus the mercenaries that the merchants keep hiring."

Brom took some coins from his pocket and slid them to the bartender. "I might help you remember it."

The bartender took the coins with a thoughtful look. He set down the glass and the rug. With a bright smile, he regarded the travelers with renewed interest. "You could help me, but my memory needs a bit more of nudging."

"Knock it off, Gareth," someone drawled. The man who was missing two fingers straightened up and regarded the travelers. "Charging unsuspecting travelers for information that they could ask anyone for? That's low, even for someone like you." He waited for the bartender, Gareth, to return Brom's coins before continuing. "The name's Martin."

"I'm Neal, and these here are my sons Evan and Randall." Brom smiled. "I owe you one."

Martin nodded. He paused to give Gareth a dirty look with his glassy gray eyes. He gestured at the empty chairs by his table. "Go ahead and sit. Not expecting company today. A bad day for business in Teirm overall."

Roran glanced at Eragon. _I'm not sure about what this means but we better be cautious. We can never be too careful._

_I know. C'mon._ Eragon sat protectively beside Brom, his eyes staring daggers at the door.

Roran sat on Brom's other side, grinning apologetically to Martin. "Sorry about that, my brother is definitely not in the mood today."

Brom nodded to Martin. "Saved me a few crowns back there. We don't have enough to survive properly as it is."

"Glad to help. I understand Gareth though. It's not just a bad day for business today. It's been this way for months now, what with Urgal attacks throughout the Empire and all," explained Martin. "Not to count the pirates that have been intercepting ships that leave to the south and to the east. It started a few months ago. Certain merchants' ships get attacked – and that includes Jeod's. No captain wants to accept their goods anymore, which is sad. Really. Even the biggest shipping companies get attacked. They have to send goods by land and that's expensive. Not all of those caravans make it either."

"What can you tell me about these attacks?" asked Roran.

"Ships get attacked and disappear. Nobody survives." Martin shrugged, apparently trying his best to stay calm and composed. "Sailors say it's magic but we ship defenders can't really say the same – unless we're unfortunate enough to get hired in those doomed ships."

_Hope not. He's a pretty decent guy,_ Eragon said.

_I know. But sometimes fate loves to be strange. Look at us – mere farmboys that became Dragon Riders overnight._ Roran smiled.

Brom nodded to Martin with more understanding than the boys expected. "So what can you tell us about Jeod?"

"The man lives in the western part of the city, next to Angela the Herbalist. Might not be interested in buying though, he's lost another ship." Martin shrugged.

"Oh, no, he's just an old friend." Brom smiled. "My family's passing by and I think he could help us with something."

* * *

After a bit more of light conversation with Martin, they left the tavern and met up with the others. Arya and Katrina were deep in conversation about sophisticated city clothing while Nasuada and Murtagh were arguing about the practicality of ornate weapons. They raised an eyebrow as Brom explained the events in the tavern to them. Eragon, meanwhile, picked at a string on his tunic as he updated Saphira.

Saphira was uneasy. _I sense danger, little one. I hope you finish your business in Teirm soon._

Eragon sighed. _Know what? I hope so too. I can't wait to fly with you again._

Brom clapped his shoulder with a knowing look. "Okay, that's enough dilly-dallying about. We better move on." He mounted Shesnir. "I'm hopeful about lunch after meeting with Jeod. I missed city food."

It wasn't so hard to find the herbalist's shop. It had a bright, cheery sign and the herbs were all fresh. A short young woman barely older than the Riders sat by the door, holding a frog in one hand and writing with the other. Her wild, curly brown hair kept falling over her face. There were houses on either side of the store.

"Should we ask her?" Eragon asked nervously.

Brom nodded. He cleared his throat and strode towards the woman. "Excuse me, could you tell us where Jeod lives?" he asked.

"Yes, I could." The woman didn't even look up from what she was writing.

A few uncomfortable seconds passed. Eragon exchanged a nervous look with Murtagh. _What's with her?_

_ No idea. Probably crazy._ Murtagh shrugged.

"Would you tell us?" Brom pressed on.

"Yes, I would." The woman continued writing. The frog in her hand stared at them with bulbous eyes and croaked sadly. "Of course I would tell you, but did you ask? You asked me if I can and if I will, not about the question itself!"

_Yep. Totally crazy,_ said Murtagh.

"Please, let me ask properly." Brom smiled in shame. "Which house is Jeod's? And why, my lady, are you holding a frog?"

"That's more like it." The woman chuckled, her gray eyes flashing. "Jeod lives to the right. As for the frog, it's what people would call a toad. I'm writing a paper which proves that frogs don't exist."

"I don't understand…" began Arya. "Frogs live more in water while toads like the land more."

"Besides, you just said that you're holding a toad. What can you achieve by proving that toads are frogs?" asked Eragon.

"Does it mean that you're holding a frog? Or that you're not holding anything at all?" Murtagh looked baffled. "I don't understand it.

"Oh, you don't understand," the woman said, her cheeks turning pink. "If toads don't exist then it means that I'm holding a frog. And if it's a frog – and there are no toads – then witches can't use them for spells like causing warts or making teeth fall out."

"That sounds interesting," Brom said earnestly, earning a bewildered look from Katrina. "It really sounds like a good topic and I want to know more, but we must go and meet Jeod."

"But of course." With that, the woman returned to her writing.

Once they were out of earshot, Nasuada crossed her arms. "I'm sure that the woman is nothing but insane."

"Possible, but don't criticize her easily. She might discover something big in the future," Brom said with a laugh. "To be honest, she might actually prove that toads don't exist."

"Maybe in her world," retorted Roran.

"Oh, don't be mean," scolded Katrina.

They stood before a massive oak door with a wrought iron knocker and a marble doorstep. Eragon couldn't imagine someone wealthy enough to have one. Brom knocked thrice and they waited for a few more seconds.

"Uh, Brom? We might be knocking on the wrong house," Katrina said. "Maybe we should try the others."

The door opened and a woman greeted them. She was fairly young, with pale blonde hair and an equally pale complexion. Her eyes were a deep moss green shade, puffy and teary like she was just finished crying. She looked a little like Elain, Horst the blacksmith's wife. "Yes? What do you want?"

"We're here to speak to Jeod," Brom said calmly.

"That's my husband's name," the woman told him dryly. Her eyes took in their worn-out appearance and fairly shabby clothes. "Is he expecting you today?"

"No, but it's important that we talk to him."

"He is a very busy man." The woman moved to close the door.

"We travelled far for this."

"I told you, he's busy!"

Brom sighed. "Well then, since he's busy then it would be fine to give him a message, yes? Tell him that a friend from Gil'ead is waiting outside."

The woman huffed. She shot them a suspicious look. "Very well," she snapped before slamming the door shut.

"That wasn't very polite," Nasuada muttered.

"I know, she could've at least invited us inside or something," Katrina said. "That's basic city hospitality for us, I guess."

"Keep your opinions to yourselves," scolded Brom. He crossed his arms. "Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking this time."

A tall man with wispy graying hair, busy eyebrows over deep blue eyes and a mournful face stepped out. He was dressed in fine clothing that would have cost a fortune in Carvahall. There was a long scar running from his scalp down to his temple. His eyes widened as he saw Brom. He stepped back in surprise. "B-Brom?"

Brom grinned boyishly. He clasped the man's arm. "Aye. Good to see that you remember me. I would, ah, appreciate it if you don't call me by my name here. It would be unpleasant if the wrong ears hear it."

The shock was still etched on Jeod's face. He eyed Brom irritably. "I thought you were dead. I wish you have contacted me sooner and told me."

"I had to. I'll explain soon. Is there a place where we could talk in private?"

"Well surely not here. Give me a moment to gather some things and then we can be on our way."

_We could learn something about Brom's past!_ Eragon broadcasted to the other Riders.

_Yes, if he lets us stay while they talk._ Murtagh crossed his arms. _It won't hurt him to tell us more though._

Arya looked down. _Maybe he has his own reasons. Like something that hurt him so much in the past or something he didn't like about where he came from._

_Like you?_ Nasuada asked gently.

Arya nodded subtly. She glanced at the sky, as if thinking of the dragons. With the spell that changed her face and ears to appear human, she looked vulnerable that way. _I'm sixteen. A child among my people – and even this young, I wish I wasn't an outcast among them._

Jeod stepped out, wearing an embroidered jacket over his clothes and a rapier strapped to his belt. He smiled, eyeing the Riders' quivers and Brom's sword. "You can't be the only ones armed, eh? These are dangerous times and we should always be ready," he said. He put on a plumed hat as he began to walk, motioning for them to follow him. "Lord Risthart decreed that we should have headquarters in his castle even if we often conduct our business in other places. We do it just to humor him really, but we'll be fairly safe there. Nobody will eavesdrop on us."

The Riders led the horses behind them as they moved towards the citadel. They went through the massive iron gates and headed for a side door with a wooden ring beside it, where they tied the horses. Jeod pulled out a key and unlocked the door. "We'll have privacy in here," he said.

Inside was a long, dark corridor that felt damp and smelled musty. It was empty and eerily quiet, and the small torches did nothing to brighten it up. Eragon touched the wall and felt a layer of slime. He shuddered and slowly backed away from the spot, wedging himself between Roran and Murtagh.

_What's gotten into you?_ Roran asked.

Eragon huffed. _Slime. It just surprised me, that's all. I mean, the castle was so grand outside and I thought it would be that way inside._

_ Maybe it's better in Risthart's own quarters. You know how a man like that would work._ Murtagh rolled his eyes.

Jeod grabbed a lit torch and they headed for his office. A bearskin rug laid on the floor, and shelves upon shelves of books lined up the walls. Some soft leather seats were placed around the room. Jeod thrust the torch under the pile of wood in the fireplace and then settled down on a long couch. The cheery warmth was comforting. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. And you, old man, have a lot of explaining to do."

The Riders sat together in a long couch, after Arya set aside some scrolls. They all felt nervous. Brom sat near Jeod and grinned. "Who are you calling old man? At least I still have some color in your hair. Yours was like spun gold the last time we met."

Jeod laughed. "You're well preserved for an old man. You look the way you did twenty years ago – heck, I look older than you now. Now get on with it already."

Brom shrugged. "When we got separated, I escaped and stumbled upon it – the treasure. I couldn't reach out and contact you. It would have given us away. So I ran to the Varden and handed it over to them. As they promised, they paid for me to disappear somewhere secluded. Ended up in Carvahall and my young wards here."

_I knew that Brom worked for the Varden and discovered the eggs for them but hearing him talk about it so casually… it feels like he knows and did more than he lets on,_ came Nasuada's voice. _Not even the people there talk about him much._

_ He feels more powerful and older than he looks like,_ noted Arya.

"Carvahall is so far in the north," mused Jeod. He glanced at the six Riders. "So you're doing your duty, are you?"

Brom nodded. He quickly introduced the young Riders using their names. Jeod's eyes widened as he saw Nasuada and his jaw dropped when Arya was mentioned. "We have a lot to do along with this duty of mine. Roran's father was taken by Enduriel and the Ra'zac, apparently with the intent to make them follow. He must be saved, and I think our old friend has no idea that he's facing more than he expected. Along with that, we have to rescue Arya's brother from Gil'ead, where they most likely keep him in."

"Then why did you come here?" asked Jeod. "I mean, this is a long way from Gil'ead and I have no idea about where Enduriel and the Ra'zac are hiding. The Forsworn are not especially known for keeping prisoners of that sort in their estates and their personal prison are well-hidden secrets."

Brom brought out the flask of Seither oil that they found in the ruins of the farm. It felt like a lifetime ago. "They left this behind when they flew off on their mounts. This is Seithr oil – the dangerous kind that the king loves. We need to see shipping records to trace purchases of this oil."

"Have you lost your mind, old man? The books in here are records – my shipping records. Can you imagine how long it would take for us to go through every single shipping record in Teirm? It could take us months – or years. Besides, the records are in this castle and only the administrator of trade, Brand, can see them. They're afraid of us falsifying the records to cheat our way out of taxes."

"We'll deal with that. Right now we have to rest and prepare for a few days."

"Then it's time for me to play the part of host, old friend. Now, do you use different names here in Teirm?"

While Brom was busy explaining more, Eragon cast his mind out, trying to get to Saphira. _How are you faring?_

_ Well._ Saphira sent a mental image of the six dragons circling the mountains, searching for food. _It seems like you will be there long. Bring me something tasty when you return. Like that steak you talk about or maybe a rat. I like crunchy rats._

"You all have unique names, you know that? Eragon, the first Rider, Roran, son of king Palancar and one of the two first human Riders along with Murtagh the court mage. Arya was the queen of the elves who arrived from Alalea thousands of years ago. Nasuada is the name of a chief's daughter from the Wandering tribes who slew one of the Forworn – Cailern. And Katrina, wife of Rider Roran, was the first female Rider. Though many bear that name, it is so rare to see it along with other children who also have names of legendary people."

"So, a merchant, eh?" Brom said, diverting Jeod's attention.

_Let's stay quiet and listen,_ Katrina said. _We might learn more._

"Yes, I've been trading and also sending supplies down south to our friends. I've been doing it for almost eight years now."

"Never expected you to become a merchant, to be honest. You've got a lot of talents, using books to track down underground ruins, eggs and swords." Brom chuckled.

"It didn't sit right after Gil'ead. I still wanted to help Ajihad so a lot of my goods are deliveries to Surda. You know that my father was a merchant and he helped me get a good start. Not going well lately though, I think Galbatorix found out about the merchants that support Tronjheim. It's not people from the Empire though, more like mercenaries."

"So you lost a ship?"

"My last one. Lost my best men too. No caravan will make it to Surda and nobody wants to ship my goods even if I offer ridiculously high prices. Even my colleagues have been plagued with problems in their shipments. There's surely a traitor. You have to return to Tronjheim."

"I can't take my young wards there. They'll be torn apart – even Nasuada and Arya. The dwarves will go crazy. Everyone will try to influence them – even Islanzadi herself." At that, Arya grinned bitterly in acknowledgement. "They need a few more months or a year. At least until I get them through tuatha du orothrim."

_Dwarves? Tronjheim? What's this?_ Even Roran was baffled.

_We live in Tronjheim with them. For now. Explain later, listen more now, _snapped Nasuada.

"They need your power and wisdom," Jeod pleaded.

"I'm just an old man." Brom rolled his eyes and glanced at Undbitr on his belt. "Ajihad will have to survive without me a little longer. Having a traitor there is troubling though. I think it's how the Empire knows what to do. And our messages must be intercepted by this traitor. Do you have one that you can trust? Someone we could take to the people who receive your goods?"

Jeod nodded. "I could send them to Gil'ead but we need something to convince them that it's from you."

Brom removed his sapphire ring. "Give him this and tell him that I'll tear his liver off if he loses or scratches it."

"Well, aren't you cheery."

"We better go now. We also have to go check on the horses." Brom rose and grinned. "Congratulations on getting married to a lovely young woman, by the way."

Jeod made a face as they left the confines of his office. "She's not happy. Wants a good home, children, a life of luxury. She came from a wealthy merchant family that helped me with investments and with all these losses, she can't live like she used to. Ah, don't think too much of it. You're my guests and shouldn't be troubled by the problems of the host – except for very full stomachs."

"We appreciate your hospitality. Thank you." Brom bowed to him. "Do you know a place where we could buy inexpensive clothes? The ones we have with us are worn out from days of riding."

* * *

**As always, your enthusiastic reviews and neverending questions bring a smile to my face! So I'll try to do some answering.. :)**

**A quick recap on Rider swords from the original book: Zar'Roc = red, Naegling (which sounds like something from Beowulf) = gold, Tamerlein = green, Brisingr = blue.**

**A quick recap on Rider swords that have appeared in Bloodkin so far: Undbitr = a light blue, Skymning (reminds me of Skyrim) = silver, Gryning = gold, Eldsvard = red, Kylskada = blue, Alksvadr (I can pronounce that?!) = violet, Jordskalv = green**

**I'm seriously considering an epic battle between our heroic twins and the villainous Twins at the end of the part that deals with the events from Eldest, thanks to a guest reviewer! :) Should I push through with that?**

**As for Brom and Garrow? They'll last long. And become legends too, as a matter of fact.**

**Reviewers, you are ALL epictasmically amazing! Nothing can compare to the sweet delight that stems from the warming notes that your reviews have wrought upon my soul. Oh. Sorry, been reading 30 H's.**

**Review for the sake of Jeod's business!**


	11. Dragon Riders Rising

**Disclaimer: If IC was mine then the epic romance would've happened.**

**So. Another chapter. I was supposed to keep this until tomorrow but then I saw that I had 2000 hits! So here's my way of thanking you amazing guys, especially those who added this to their favorites, followed it and reviewed!**

**Tbh, I think that this chapter isn't necessary but it's fun. The predictions sound rushed, I know :( But at least I answered a reviewer's question! ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Dragon Riders Rising**

After a rich meal in a luxurious tavern, Murtagh felt drowsy. He absent-mindedly contacted Thorn. _I'm so full, it feels like I'm going to pass out. How are you?_

_I've eaten, impulsive one. What have you done today?_ Thorn sounded as sleepy as him.

_Well, we met Brom's friend. He seems trustworthy enough and works for the Varden! Maybe he can help us find a way to join someday._

_ And rip the oath-breakers limb from limb? Yes, I'd like that. But first you have to grow taller and get stronger._

_ I'm not short._

_ Through a dragon's eyes, you're tiny._ Thorn cut their connection with a chuckle.

Huffing, Murtagh trudged behind the others on their way to Jeod's house. Eragon looked at him with concern but luckily didn't pry. Back in front of Jeod's house, a portly butler opened the door. He led them into the house, where Murtagh examined the rich tapestries hanging on the stone walls. He could spot woven dragons of varying colors, depicting tales of heroism. The crimson rugs were plush and the wooden floor gleamed, freshly polished.

_Do you think we could use magic to see those records? _Katrina asked.

_I'm not sure either,_ said Arya. _Maybe we can talk to Brom later? Eragon here usually has endless questions anyway. I'm sure he won't mind._

_ I can hear you, you know._ Eragon crossed his arms irritably.

Jeod's study was even better. Shelves upon shelves of books covered the walls, making Murtagh wish that he knew how to read. The fireplace was more cheerful than the one from Risthart's castle. The rugs on the floor were colorful, and the richest tapestries hung there. Seats and cushions were on the floor, and a few desks lay on one corner.

"Teirm is beautiful," Katrina said with a smile. "How long do you think will we be here?

"Depends on how we will get to the records and find the ones we need." Brom stroked his bushy beard. "I'll try to negotiate with Brand tomorrow and see how it goes from there."

Murtagh glanced at Eragon. "I'm not sure about how much we could help. My brothers and I can't read."

Brom blinked. "Garrow never taught you?"

"Father could read?" Roran asked him.

"Aye, the proud fool did. He must have thought that it was an unnecessary luxury. Never mind about that, I'll help you learn. How about you ladies?"

"Arya and I can read," offered Nasuada.

"I can too, but I'm not that fast," Katrina added.

"That will be enough. Books are friends. There's a lot to learn from them." Jeod closed his eyes and smiled. "I'm sure that our young ladies here will also help you learn. You'll enjoy it, I'm sure. Books will make you weep, and laugh, and feel things that you never have before."

"I wish I did learn how to read," admitted Eragon.

"I used to be a scholar but now I'm just a bibliophile – a man who loves books."

Murtagh scanned the shelves with Eragon and Roran, his thumb running down embossed golden letters that held a lot of mysteries to him. His younger brother picked out a book that was studded with what seemed to be real gold. The black leather cover held mysterious runes. He opened it, inviting Murtagh and Roran to peer at the soft paper and the reddish ink. "What is this?"

"I haven't seen one of those for ages!" Brom exclaimed.

"Yes, the Domia abr Wyrda." Jeod shrugged. "There was a man who came here a few years back and tried to sell it in the wharves. I bought it from him and probably saved his neck. He had no idea what it was."

"The Domia abr Wyrda or the Dominance of Fate is one of the most expensive books here, I bet," said Brom. "It's really curious for you to pick this book. It talks of Alagaesia's history, starting from before the elves came to a few decades ago. It's quite rare and when it was published, the Empire claimed that it was blasphemous. They burned the author, Heslant the Monk, and every copy of this that they could find. The lettering is from the Ancient Language."

"So what does it say?" asked Murtagh, showing him the page they have opened.

"It's an elven poem about their war with the dragons. This page talks of their king, Ceranthor, riding into battle."

"My people love that poem," Arya said dreamily. "It takes us three days to recite it and we do that yearly. It's to teach us never to repeat the mistakes we've done in the past. Sometimes we sing it so beautifully that everyone and everything is moved to tears."

After a few more hours of chatting, Jeod called his butler to lead them to their rooms. Murtagh was so exhausted that his brain felt numb. The butler glanced at him with what looked like pity. "If you need help, just ring the bell near your bed." He stopped before a cluster of four doors, bowed and left.

"Oh, yes, I forgot that you're married couples here in Teirm." Brom laughed at the Riders' scandalized expressions. "Don't worry, rooms in Teirm usually have two beds. It's custom even for man and wife to sleep apart here every now and then. Well then, go on. We have a long day tomorrow."

"We need to talk to you, actually," Eragon said.

Brom opened his door and let them in. The Riders huddled together and shot nervous looks at each other. They nudged each other to start but not even one of them wanted to talk. Finally, Roran cleared his throat. "Er, we had an idea. Is it possible to see something that's far away from you? Like view it a book?"

"It's called scrying. You can only observe what you've seen before. Like we could scry the Ra'zac and see them but not their surroundings. You could only view a book you've seen before when it's opened on that particular page, or else it would be completely black." Brom shook his head. He sat on his lush bed tiredly. "It's because you need to know what you're looking at and how to direct magic to it. You should know what you're going to scry before you attempt it. It would conserve your energy too, if you conjure the image in a mirror or water instead of in thin air. It's one of the reasons Riders used to travel so much."

"That would be so that they could see everything and be able to scry events in Alagaesia if they needed to, right?" Nasuada snapped her fingers excitedly. "Can you teach us?"

"I'll teach you the words now, but you will have to wait until we finish our job here before you try it, understand? We'll be very busy here. Now, don't forget the words draumr kopa. Now, rest. You'll need it."

* * *

That night, Eragon had another dream.

_A woman sat cross-legged inside a massive room circled by eight massive statues of dragons. She wore nothing but a thick, rich cloak and a flimsy blue dress. Her wild, curly hair was gray like storm clouds and her hair was the same shade. She didn't seem to be older than eighteen. Fumes curled at her feet, caressing them like a house pet would._

_ Footsteps echoed in the darkness, and a young man entered, bringing with him a brilliantly lit torch. He wore a rich white cloak and a sword of the same color hung at his hip – a Rider. Behind him was a massive dragon, barely able to fit between the massive oak doors behind him._

_ The woman breathed in the fumes richly. "Shur'tugal."_

_ "Soothsayer." The Rider knelt before her, bowing his head. His ears tapered to delicate points, revealing that he was an elf. "Eragon, first of the Shur'tugal. Bid'daum is here with me."_

_ "Yes, I can see that." The woman's voice was hypnotic, and the young elf seemed to sway. She somehow looked familiar. "Hear me well, first of your kind, for you and only you will hear of this. All ages come to an end, but new beginnings will be born from this. Your people will fall." The first Eragon glanced at her, drawing in a sharp breath. Behind him, Bid'daum growled. "But there is hope. There is always a last hope. Your order will rise again, more powerful than before. And you will be at the helm. In another life, in another time…"_

With a jolt, Eragon fell off his bed. He was alone. The others must have went about with whatever they were up to for the day. His room mate, Arya, even left her bed neatly made. After he did the same with his bed, he washed up in the basin and dressed for a day outside. A thick blue cloak was laid out at the foot of his bed along with some coins and a note from Brom telling him to do anything he wanted for the day. That was promising.

_Good morning, little one,_ greeted Saphira.

Eragon smiled as he donned his new cloak. It was perfect for a cold day, and it must have cost a lot. _Good morning, Saphira. What are you up to for today?_

_ I'm out hunting. I want to taste the deer in this place. How about you?_

_ I'm going to explore Teirm today. I'll tell you anything interesting that I find._

_ You two-legs think everything is interesting,_ sniffed Saphira. She let out a low, grating chuckle. _Nothing is more interesting than a beautiful dragon._

Eragon grinned. And as he wandered through the city of Teirm after a quick breakfast with Jeod, he kept their link open. He talked with some shopkeepers and examined their wares, though of course he was wise enough to keep his money. Nothing was interesting enough to buy, after all, and even the most amazing-looking books would have been wasted with his lack of knowledge. He eventually wound up back in Jeod's street, where Arya was examining the herbalist's dark shop.

The pretty elf looked up as he approached. "Oh, it's you," she said airily. "I wanted to have a look inside but it's dark."

"It's barely noon," agreed Eragon. He moved forward and peered inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust in the gloom. He could vaguely hear Saphira in his mind, warning him about potential danger in the dark place.

It by itself was unusual. Most shops were placed in specific places separated from taverns, inns and homes. This was cramped in between two grand houses. A layer of crawling plants blocked the light from the window and cast a dark, greenish hue inside the shop. A colorful bird rested on a cage, as if decisively ignoring the young Riders. Feeling braver, Eragon stepped inside with Arya. Flowers bloomed on pots, their vivid hues brightening the somewhat gloomy shop. A crystal ball, a mortar and pestle laid on the counter.

The entire shop was cramped not only with plants and herbs but also with strange contraptions, books and scrolls. Shelves and drawers lined the back wall. _Do you think this place is safe?_ Eragon asked.

_Probably. I can't sense a hostile mind._ Arya sounded unsure though, and she stepped beside Eragon. Her green eyes scanned the place. _Will you look at that…_

A fierce-looking black cat jumped onto the counter, its red eyes gazing at the two. Its ears were tufted and it had a shaggy mane. It was an unusual cat. Eragon glanced at Arya, their minds still linked. Arya grinned and glanced at the cat. Together, they prodded it with their minds.

_You didn't have to._

Eragon blinked in confusion, but Arya was grinning mischievously. _Saphira? Was that you?_ Baffled, he leaned against the counter, absent-mindedly reaching for a wooden rod.

_That wouldn't be wise._

_Quit playing games, Saphira! It's not funny,_ snarled Eragon.

_Eragon, I think you should listen,_ Arya told him in amusement.

Eragon didn't. He touched the rod and a shock of pain ran through his body. He fell to the floor, by Arya's feet. The elf crouched beside him, checking for visible injuries.

_A wise Rider and a foolish one. A very amusing pair._

Eragon blinked as realization dawned on him. He could feel Arya's amusement and wanted to chew her out for it. He glared at the cat. _That was you! And Arya didn't even tell me!_

The cat yowled irritably and jumped at him, its red eyes giving him a big glare. It crouched on its chest and bared its teeth, preventing Eragon from sitting up. _Do I look like any other cat to you?_ It sounded both bored and irritated, which was strange.

_Well, no._

_Your friend is smarter than you, you know. _The cat dug its claws into his chest. _Your education must be minimal. I am a werecat. Our numbers may be few but I thought even a lowly farmboy would have heard of us._

Eragon glanced at Arya, who watched with interest. Then he looked back at the cat. _I didn't think that you were real!_ Werecats were said to be smart and wise, with magical powers and long lives. _I must have disturbed your nap. Sorry about that._

_Put that rod back before it shocks you again. And before you ask, it's just a common and boring artifact._

Eragon hastily put the rod back in place. Still connected with Arya's mind, he heard her ask, _What is your name, wise werecat?_

_ I have a lot of names. But you may call me Solembum._

The shop door opened and Angela strolled in, bringing a bag of plants. She glanced at Solembum before giving the two Riders a startled look. "My friend here says that you talked to him," she said in amazement.

"So, you can talk to him too," pondered Arya.

"Yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he'll talk right back to me. Did you come here to have a look around? Or did you need something?" Angela set the bag down on the counter. "Solembum likes you two. Says that you show a lot of promise. Only two people have ever done that before. One was a woman and the other was a blind beggar. Hmm, I think you may be here to look around but some rich old fools also come to have me whip up some potions and the like. Would you like to have your fortune told?"

"We don't exactly have money," admitted Eragon. "We just came in here to look around, like you said."

Angela gave Solembum a curious look. "The crystal ball is only for show. I've got something better. Wait in here, I'll be right back." She ran to the back of the room.

_That was strange,_ said Eragon.

_Yes, I believe that strange is the right word for that. I wonder if she really could tell our future?_ Arya looked a little nervous.

Angela returned with a leather pouch. She motioned for the two to sit on the stools across from her counter, where she was sitting behind. She placed a thick cloth on the counter then poured a handful of bones slightly longer than a finger, with some strange runes on them. "Solembum likes you, which means that you must be someone special. Of the two other people who talked to him, only the woman accepted my offer. Her name was Selena and she had a bleak, painful fortune. She didn't believe it at first, poor dear. Now, these are a dragon's knucklebones. They will tell you your fate with no lies. Do you accept my offer?"

Selena. That was the name of Eragon's mother. If she was brave enough to face her future even with its sadness, he was willing to see and know what was lying ahead for him. He glanced at Arya, who was looking at him already. They faced Angela and nodded. "Cast the bones for us."

Angela nodded and first faced Eragon. She grasped the bones in each hand. "Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!" She threw the bones to the counter. The words of power rang in the air. The herbalist was speaking in the Ancient Language.

_Angela must be a witch!_ Eragon said in wonder.

Arya nodded. _She's doing true fortune telling. Now hush. Let's hear yours, then we shall hear mine next._

Angela rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I've never seen someone with such a tangled future. It's quite difficult to decipher but let's start from here, where it's the easiest. This is infinity – or long life. Many years lie ahead of you, whether it's because you're immortal or you have an extraordinarily long life. I've never seen it come up before. Most people have the aspen or the elm, the signs of an average life. The wandering path, watching eye and a star all lie together. You have a lot of choices in your future, even now. Battles will be waged over you, powers struggling to control your will and destiny. Blood and conflict will surround you and your countless potential futures, and only one will bring you peace. With the freedom to choose your own way, you might be led astray. The watching eye is a long lost relative whom you will find out after knowing that person for a long time. And the star – you will rise and become someone that people in Alagaesia will look up to."

_But I'm just a lowly farmboy._

_No, you're a Rider._ Arya smiled at him reassuringly. By the lost kings, she really was beautiful.

"The rose between a crescent moon…" Angela continued. "An epic and extraordinary romance is in your future, as indicated by the moon. It is a love enough to outlast empires. There is no indication that it will end in happiness or not, but the woman we speak of is from noble birth. She is powerful, beautiful and a steadfast ally. The last bone shows the crown and scepter. You will become a leader. Not necessarily a king, but still a leader among people. And now, for you." She gave Arya a sharp look. She gathered the knucklebones once more.

Arya looked down. _Do you think I will have a future that is at least as bright as yours?_

Eragon shrugged. _We can never tell, but we're Riders. I'm sure we will all have some great things in store._

Angela cast the bones once more and peered at them. "It seems like you and your friend have some similar fates in some places. You will both have long lives, or will become immortal. You have the wandering path and the star, but in the middle is the lightning bolt. Battles will be waged for and around you, trying to control your life, your destiny. Your choices will also weigh heavily towards either a future of peace or of bloodshed. You and your friend will both be free to choose your own fates, but at the price of going astray. The lightning bolt speaks of death – one which will approach. It might not be now, but it will come as sure as the sun. Someone you love will die. And the star – you will rise above many people within Alagaesia too."

Arya bowed her head sadly. "I know that all things must die but – but I hoped that it will not happen so soon to people I love."

"It is inevitable for most," agreed Angela. She looked somewhat sad. "Now this sun between a crescent moon tells of a romance that you will have with a powerful man. He is of noble stock and he is of a hero's bloodline. He is a man with a noble spirit. The moon also indicates that your romance will be an epic one, which is strong enough to outlast empires. The last bone holds the symbol of the stairs. You, my young one, will rise among the ranks of many people."

Arya seemed too stunned to reply. Her face was drained of all color, and she was biting her lip. Nobody spoke for a while. Finally, the disguised elf cleared her throat. "You used words of power from the Ancient Language."

"You are a strange pair. Dressed in worn-out clothes, you radiate power, can speak to werecats and know of the Ancient Language." Angela gazed at them with unnerving gray eyes. Her berry-pink lips formed a smile. "Your futures are interesting. I've never seen anyone with a future like that. You will rise to greatness and be loved by equally great people? Who are you?"

The two Riders stared at each other. Arya nodded. Eragon glanced at Angela. "I am Eragon and this is Arya."

Angela raised an eyebrow, interest etched on her face. "Is that who you are or is it your name?"

"A little bit of both, I guess," admitted Eragon. "I best be going now."

"As you wish. We'll meet again someday, and we have a lot to talk about when that time comes. For now do take care. I wish to see how your lives will unfold."

As Eragon and Arya turned to leave, Solembum bounded towards them. His red eyes were fixed on them. _Listen to me closely and I will tell you two things. You may only share them to the other Riders who have come with you. Time will come and a blacksmith shall be in need of her materials. Look under the roots of the Menoa Tree, where more than weapons will be found. When all seems lost and your power feels insufficient, visit the Rock of Kuthian. Speak your name there, and the Vault of Souls will open for you._

* * *

"That woman is mad," Roran was saying, after listening to Eragon and Arya's tale.

By the time the six Riders returned to Jeod's home, the merchant and Brom still were not around. They convened in Murtagh and Nasuada's cluttered room. They all looked exhausted from a day in Teirm and all equally baffled by the way that Angela the herbalist – or was she a witch? – read their futures at different times of the day.

"No, dragon knucklebones are powerful artifacts. Only few have survived from the time that my people waged war upon them." Arya still looked a little bothered by Angela's prediction. "So I assume that she predicted that we all have long lives, various paths with bloody futures and only one leading to peace, and that we will be far greater than everyone else in Alagaesia?"

"Yes. Well, she actually told me that I will have an epic romance with a childhood friend who has a great legacy, that a family member will betray me and that I will rise among the ranks of many different people." Katrina smiled and glanced at the three brothers.

Nasuada smiled. "Basically, I was also told that death was nearing someone I love. I would have an epic romance with a noble man with a heroic bloodline. And I will also rise among the ranks of a lot of people."

"I was to romance a childhood friend who was of conflicting bloodlines." Roran finally managed to cough out the rest of Angela's prediction when he and Murtagh met her. "Like you guys, I'll rise among the ranks of many people. I was going to save family, and family will also save me. Isn't that a little complicated?"

"Well, you haven't topped mine. I'm supposed to have a romance with a daughter of a great leader who holds both beauty and power. Well, seems like Eragon and I will both find a long lost relative – maybe our mother or our father? And that I will rise among many people's ranks." Murtagh shrugged. "I think that woman really is mad."

"Oh, don't say that," scolded Nasuada.

"The words that the werecat spoke of also feel powerful." Arya leaned on the bedpost. "I know of the Menoa Tree though."

"You should have said so earlier," exclaimed Eragon.

"I was waiting until we're all here. The Menoa Tree is the oldest in Ellesmera, and has strange powers. It's said that an elf named Linnea sang herself into it when she was scorned by a human lover. I'm not sure how much truth it holds but elves revere the tree."

"I'm not sure that your people would be happy to have us digging under it when the time comes," said Murtagh.

There was a knock on the door. Roran, being the nearest, got to his feet and opened it. The butler gave him a little bow. "Sirs and madams, Sirs Jeod and Neal wish for you to join them in the study right now."

Roran smiled. "We'll be there in a few minutes. Thank you."

The butler bowed and left. The others were already on their feet. They headed for the study, where Jeod was reading a book by the fire. Brom looked so angry that he would have burst into flames too if he stayed that way.

Tactless as always, Eragon blurted out, "How'd it go? Did you talk to Brand?"

"The blasted man is the worst kind of bureaucrat. He abides by every single obscure rule and makes up his own just to cause some inconvenience. He thinks that he's doing good too. I can't sway him at all. He didn't even want substantial bribes. I think I prefer greedy bastards now."

"So what are we to do now?" Nasuada asked meekly.

"Well, we'll take this time to teach our farmboys about reading. And after that, we'll give that bastard Brand a nasty surprise."

Dinner wasn't exactly a fun affair in Jeod's household. Jeod sat on one end of the table and Helen at the other. The guests sat in between them, and to Roran, it felt quite dangerous. Helen's glares weren't exactly hard to miss. The food was served quietly and everyone ate the same way. Roran caught Katrina's eye. _I've had more fun eating in funerals._

_ I know. Funerals are sad but not excessively. Helen seems to resent us. I wish I knew why._ Katrina gave him a fleeting smile, sending a hurricane of butterflies in his stomach. _Well, at least your reading lessons will make up for that. It's quite fun._

Right after dinner, the three boys began the task of being literate. With the help of Brom and the three girls, the boys slowly advanced, learning how to string letters together, make words and differentiate with some. It also established a brand new routine.

Every morning right after breakfast, the young Riders went to the study to learn and help in teaching about literacy. Roran enjoyed it even if Brom and Arya were a bit impatient at times. They began memorizing sounds and rules of writing. A few hours before sunset and dinner, the Riders sparred with each other outside, before clashing blades with Brom. Servants and children watched them during these hours. Right after dinner, they convened in Brom's room, where they practiced with their magic.

The Riders and their dragons kept their minds linked every day and every hour. It was comforting to know that friends and allies were always within reach, and it also helped them do a bit of mind blocking exercises.

Horrible news arrived in Teirm every day. Terrible attacks from the coast were reported by traveling merchants. Word of important people disappearing in the night and ending up as mangled corpses when day came also passed into the city. Jeod and Brom discussed these news and fell quiet whenever one of the Riders were within earshot.

So many things happened that before Roran knew it, the week was up. His reading skills were still far from perfect, but he could read enough not to ask too much for Brom's help. During one lazy afternoon, Brom finally told them of their plans.

As Roran lay in his bed that night, he contacted Askanir. _We'll be leaving either tonight or tomorrow._

_Good to hear about that. Will you be safe?_ The amethyst dragon sounded concerned and upset.

_We might escape with soldiers right behind us, actually._ Roran put a hand to his forehead. He closed his eyes in exhaustion. _I don't know, but I'm sure it will be alright. Brom and the rest of us can fight and use magic. You should get some rest now._

* * *

**So, answers time! Since a lot of you are so enthusiastic about it, I think that the duel between our heroic twins and the vile Twins will push through. Sooner than expected, maybe. And I think Islanzadi will blow up when she finds out about Arya being a Rider too. Teehee~ ****Is anybody excited to see Enduriel? Because I think he's going to pop up soon!**

**I have to make a confession that some fans might not like. I'm actually seriously considering giving (a red) Brisingr to Murtagh. Red Rider seems symbolically fiery to me. But it's still so far off, so I might change my mind. I'm considering giving Eragon an ice-themed sword by the way.**

**You guys are so amazing!**

**Review for the success of their break-in!**


	12. Brains and Brawn

**Disclaimer: The world of Alagaesia belongs to CP, not me.**

**So, the break-in and filler. How lame is that for my currently longest chapter? And another Eragon dream? What could this be?**

**Enduriel will come up in Chapter 13, which is kind of fitting if you ask me. Which among the Forsworn do you want to meet soon? (There are 2 OC Forsworn by the way along with 4 canon ones namely Enduriel, Kialandi, Formora and Morzan)**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Brains and Brawn**

The sun was setting with a blaze of glory when Katrina woke from her nap. Roran was standing by the door, trying to smoothen his black clothing. He looked strangely regal that way, even without his new violet cloak. He noticed her gaze and smiled. "Er, I'll be outside if you need me. You better get ready. Hurry, okay? It's almost time."

Katrina nodded and waited for him to leave before she changed into a dark tunic and laced a black jacket over it. She pulled up her brand breeches courtesy of Jeod, which truly were more practical and comfortable than her old dresses when it came to traveling. When she was all set, she stepped out of the room. The other Riders were waiting for her.

Nasuada gave her a tentative smile and pulled her aside. "I'm actually quite nervous."

"You're not the only one," muttered Katrina. She slung her new bow across her back. She was getting better and better at it but she still wasn't as good as the others. Her sword skills and magic were excellent according to Brom though. "Here's to hoping we don't get caught."

Brom and Jeod were waiting for them in the main hallway. The light was beginning to fade as day gave way to a calm, cool night. They did their best to move quietly and stealthily in the city streets, doing their best to stay away from the sight of watchmen, soldiers and curious bystanders. Their group was a little too big but they did their best to move in pairs.

Katrina caught movement in Angela's shop but couldn't spot anything. Her mind wandered to the werecat, Solembum. She shuddered and walked closer to Arya. _I think he's watching us._

_ I think so too. But werecats have always been Riders' allies. He will not dare harm us._ Arya still sounded unsure, though. _If he does, I'll wring his little neck to pieces._

Katrina smiled. _I'd like to help you with it but I really am not that good in fighting._

Arya put a hand on her shoulder. "It just takes time."

They reached the fortress. As planned, Arya, Roran and Nasuada veered off to the bushes to keep an eye out for pursuers. Katrina fell into place behind the twins. Jeod knocked at the gates. A surly guard peered at them from an opening. "What is it?" he asked irritably.

"These kids here left behind an important package," growled Jeod.

The gate swung open. "Whatever. Give them good beatings, understand?"

Katrina supressed a shudder as she followed Jeod into the castle. She could feel Luneria pressing against her mind. She gave in and let her dragon access her thoughts. _Don't worry, Luneria. I'll be fine. We just got in._

Irritation simmered from Luneria. _It's not that. The puny human wanted you to be beaten! He should be punished._

_ Well, if you want every single damned Forsworn to come here then feel free,_ snapped Katrina. She paused upon realising what she said. _Lune – look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm just nervous, is all._

_ That fierceness is what a Rider needs. You're too gentle, sweet one._ Luneria's amusement was all to obvious. _I must go hunt. We'll talk when you're finished. You have to tell me everything, understand? Everything!_ With a cackle, she broke their connection.

Katrina casually put a hand on the pommel of her sword. She had to be ready to draw it if the need calls for it. Eragon and Murtagh strung their bows. They gave her an amazed look that she couldn't respond to properly. _What?_

_ Nothing._ Eragon grinned. _Roran will like that._

_Oooh, careful, little brother. She might decide to stick that pointy piece of metal on you._ Murtagh chuckled as they reached the records room.

Brom unlocked the door with a spell and ushered them inside. After quickly grabbing a torch, he followed them and shut the door behind him. Racks piled with scrolls awaited them. Jeod pointed the shipping records that were from the past five years. "We can start from the top and work down," he added. "Ignore the tax scrolls and focus on those that discuss Seithr oil."

They spent few moments writing down things that they gleaned from the records, focusing on the Seithr oil shipments to the northern part of the Empire. They jotted down their findings and slowly worked on the records, quickly returning the ones they finished to their original spots. The silence in the room was only broken by quills scratching on parchment and the footsteps of occassional watchmen.

Katrina had no idea how long they worked that way, but things had to change eventually. She heard Roran's voice speaking to everyone. _Solembum is on his way. I think he went to patrol the hallways._

As if on cue, a child peered at them from the neerby window. His black hair was a shaggy mess and its slanted eyes seemed to flash red. He had a vague smile on his pale face. _I believe that you need my help._

_ Solembum?_ Katrina stared at the strange boy.

_ Naturally. Just because I look different doesn't mean that I'm someone else. I'm not called a werecat for nothing, am I?_ The child's smile widened into something feral. _Now answer my question: do you need my help?_

Murtagh glared at the werecat as he finished what he was writing and set the scroll he held back to its old place. _What are you doing here?_

Solembum licked his lips. _I could ask you the same thing, Rider. You could be reading this for enjoyment for all I know. Judging by your brethren outside the castle, what you are doing is unlawful and that you wouldn't want to risk discovery. The guard you met outside had just been replaced and he told this replacement about you. This man has now sent Imperial soldiers to look for you._ Before they could ask more questions, he cut the connection and ducked out of sight.

"The others have already alerted us of the replacement guard. He sent some soldiers to look for us – probably found Jeod's office empty too." Panic danced through Eragon's eyes. "We have to finish these and scram."

"Are you sure?" Jeod's voice came out strained.

Eragon nodded. "They're coming."

They put everything back in place and stepped out of the room. Brom just managed to lock the door with a spell when the soldiers arrived. They were armed and felt extremely dangerous. "Get away from that door," one of them snarled. Brom tried his best to look surprised. The guards didn't seem to buy it. "Why in the blazes are you trying to get into the records?"

"It's quite dark, as you can see. I'm afraid that we lost the way," said Jeod.

The lead guard gave him a fiery glare as the two others moved out to check the room – which was locked. He seemed irritated with the revelation. "I don't know what you rubes were up to but as long as the room was unlocked… Well, you're free to go."

Katrina didn't feel her body relax until they met up with the others and then reached Jeod's house. She couldn't believe their lock – the soldiers helped them get away. _How strange was that?_

_Foolish, my sweet one. I really don't understand two-legs._ Luneria was amused.

* * *

Arya watched as Brom's group laid out their findings on Jeod's desk. The merchant also laid out a map of Alagaesia including a rough sketch of Surda, the Beor Mountains, Hadarac Desert and even Du Weldenvarden itself. She felt sad upon seeing an image of her forest home. It also made her want to save her brother even more.

She gently touched the spot that marked Uru'baen. "Hopefully the Ra'zac and Enduriel don't stay only in there."

Nasuada shuddered. "Oh, let's hope not."

Jeod crossed his arms and glared at the map. "Well, it seems like Seithr oil has been shipped to every single city in the Empire worth noting for the past five years. They can possibly all be ordered by wealthy jewelers. There is at least one in every city. Think we could narrow the list down further?"

"The king's men will need a place that they can use to easily travel to and from any point of the Empire and yet is secluded from people. It could very well be either the Ra'zac's lair or Enduriel's personal prison." Brom traced some roads in the map. "We'll have to cross out most northern cities. It's either they're too small or too isolated besides Gil'ead, which we shouldn't rule out."

"What about the south?" Roran asked.

"Uru'baen is too unlikely since it would be so easy to trace death by Seithr oil in his court."

"Well, Aroughs is as isolated as Ceunon," Katrina offered. "So we can rule out that place too."

"Belatona and Dras-Leona are quite close." Arya bent closer to have a better look at the map. She was no strategist, but she did have ideas. "Dras-Leona is bigger and seems to have a better location that can lead to many major cities and villages."

"Well, most goods pass through that place one time or another. Every beginning of the year, they send out three shipments of Seithr oil to Dras-Leona, each shipment only two years apart. That would be horrendously expensive even for a guild of jewelers." Jeod frowned. "We should rule out Gil'ead, oil was shipped there twice in the past five years. Besides, Helgrind is in there."

Brom's face soured. "Helgrind – the Dark Gates. I forgot about that vile place. It's the perfect hiding place."

The lazy morning made it much harder to leave Teirm. It felt comfortable, in a different way from the canopy of trees in Du Weldenvarden. After a conversation between Brom and Jeod – with Helen in the side, they finally left the hospitality of the scholarly merchant. Nobody in the streets gave them a second look. They neared the gates when Arya spotted Solembum watching them. The werecat cocked its head in acknowledgement before slinking away in the shadows.

Teirm was well out of sight when the dragons shot out towards them. They all roared in glee, making the horses jittery. Arya smiled as she handed her reins to Murtagh and leapt to Firnen's back. The other girls followed her and soon they left Brom and the boys far beneath them. She threw her arms around Firnen's neck. _I missed you._

Firnen hummed. _I missed you too, little pointy-ears._

Arya didn't mind the jest. She was finally understanding that it was her dragon's term of endearment to her, and she wished she had one for him too. She let out a joyous yell as they soared over the mountains, the chilly air energizing her. She could hear Nasuada and Katrina crying out in joy too as their reunion with their dragons finally sunk in.

They talked endlessly about the dragons' antics and the Riders' adventures in Teirm. Firnen seemed excited to hear about their exploits in the citadel and their chance meeting with Angela. He was also interested in Solembum and his words, which he admitted to pondering about ever since Arya mentioned it to him. After listening to his Rider's stories, he began to babble about Saphira and the way the young sapphire dragon's wings shimmered in the pale moonlight.

Arya chuckled. _Why Firnen, if I didn't know any better then I would have assumed that you are smitten with her!_

_ She truly is glorious! She's a great huntress and told me about the strange woolly creatures that she saw from her Rider's memories! She called them sheep and also said that their wool must be difficult to pick out of teeth._

_ You're too young to be thinking of potential mates!_ Arya jested.

Firnen snorted. A dark plume of smoke trailed out of his snout. _You're always a spoilsport, little pointy-ears!_

They switched with the boys after lunch. Brom continued training them on the finer points of magic, with Arya helping him out and adding details every now and then. As the sun began dip lower in the sky, Brom trained them about individually blocking their minds. He left them to gather their defenses and then randomly tried to breach into one of those. He often succeeded after a while. Her lack of prowess in a simple elven skill left Arya frustrated.

The day definitely was getting colder. They decided to camp out behind a big cluster of rocks far from the main road. Each dragon curled up beside their Rider, providing extra warmth against the bitter wind. Nasuada watched Brom light his pipe as they finished cleaning up the remains of their dinner. She was curious about him, since not even the people in the Varden talked much about him, except to discuss his excellent knowledge of dragonlore.

_You know what? If you're so curious, why not just ask him?_ Solaris prodded her mind with a little more force than necessary. _I mean, we all want to know more about the old one._

_You didn't have to be so straightforward,_ chided Nasuada. She glanced at Brom. "So, what exactly were you and Jeod doing in Gil'ead?"

Brom's eyes flashed as he glanced at Nasuada. There was something ancient, powerful, and weary in them. They were eyes that have seen too much. "The ruins containing the six dragon eggs were concealed in an ancient, collapsed passageway beneath Gil'ead. I wasn't as wise back then, and hated the Empire so much. Jeod and I were friends who were employed by the Varden once they discovered some ancient documents that talked of hidden caches of dragon eggs. We did discover others but the eggs were either shattered or taken by Galbatorix already. When the Empire caught wind of our little, ah, expeditions, he sent the Ra'zac and one of the Forsworn after us."

"You retrieved six eggs and then raced against two monsters and an evil Rider – with his dragon, no doubt – and succeeded?" Nasuada heard that Brom was a talented magician and formidable warrior with vast knowledge. The old man was teaching the Riders everything that they needed, after all. But she didn't expect him to be capable enough to escape such enemies.

Brom crossed his arms and nodded. He lit his pipe and puffed it, sending circles of smoke dancing around him as he uttered a spell. "Wasn't easy, mind you. I nearly lost an eye during our first escape attempt, and Jeod lost some valuable scrolls, burned by Morzan's crimson dragon." At the mention of the color, Thorn shifted uncomfortably and jostled Murtagh. "It wasn't even half as noble as you, Thorn. Color does not define the dragon. Morzan was powerful, cruel, and excessively loyal to his king. There was blood between us before and he wanted to wipe the floor with me."

"So you got separated with Jeod?" asked Roran. "Did you beat Morzan? I mean, he was a right bastard, he was."

"Yes. Sadly, I failed to kill Morzan – only incapacitated him and distracted his dragon long enough to escape. I couldn't locate Jeod after the fight and so bore the eggs alone to the Varden." Brom rubbed his forehead. "A major search went on for a time, until they simply gave up or directed their enegies and resources to better things. I hid for three years in Du Weldenvarden, with the elves."

"That was long before we were born, right?" asked Arya. "I do remember my brother talking about the fact that our former king was a good friend of yours."

"Yes, he was. A good friend as any," said Brom sadly. "Once one of the Varden's elven allies fetched me, the search was over and they paid me to hide in Carvahall until they needed me again."

"I hope you don't bring us to the Varden soon," Katrina said thoughtfully. "We're not good enough to be of help to them yet and besides, we have to rescue both Garrow and Arya's brother."

"I'm glad that none of the other five Forsworn have actively sought us out, we'll get blasted to smithereens." Murtagh put his hands on his face.

"Not until you finish tuatha du orothrim – a stage in a new Rider's training. It's dangerous to go to the Varden without proper training first. Once you go there, everybody will be vying for control and influence over you. Nasuada can surely explain it a little more eventually." Brom gave the golden Rider a pointed look. "For now, you need to grow stronger, as much as you need to face the Ra'zac. It might still not be enough once we get to Dras-Leona if that truly is where they are hiding. It will be much harder if Enduriel or the other Forsworn are there."

A hard lump formed in Nasuada's throat. It was true. The Varden was as deadly as the king's court when it comes to power plays and political machinations. Then there was the more pressing problem of facing the Ra'zac and the Forsworn. They were barely strong enough to qualify as Riders. "How will we do it then?"

"Together, I'm sure that we can overpower the Ra'zac and provide enough distraction to keep the Forsworn at bay while one of us sneaks in to save Garrow and possibly even look around the place for some important items that we may need. I'm not sure about how we're going to do it right now. A direct attack might be in order."

"Did you ever meet my mother?" Eragon asked, ever so softly. A look of vulnerability passed his face.

Brom nodded. "I knew her well, as a matter of fact. Proud and dignified, she was a lot like Garrow. They were her gifts and yet caused her downfall. She was kind and compassionate even when it placed her life in danger. I knew her well enough to miss her when she was gone."

"And our father?" pressed Murtagh.

"No, I have no idea. I'm sure he was a good man who thought that keeping you away would make sure that you're safe. Well, the man is an idiot."

* * *

Eragon patrolled the skies in the morning with Saphira, Roran, Askanir, Nasuada and Solaris. They covered a good distance while watching the rest of the group traveling on the ground. _Someday, we will all take to the skies together, like that day of our first flight. Six dragons and their Riders will soar fearlessly into the future._

_ Yes, little one. Then we will be feared by the Black King and his Oath-breaker Forsworn._ To prove her point, Saphira let out a ferocious roar that startled Roran and almost made him fall off Askanir. _Oh, sorry, Roran. So, little one, do you think I'm beautiful? More so than Luneria and Solaris?_

_ Of course you are! Your scales are the most beautiful shade of blue that I've ever seen._ Eragon smiled and put a hand to Saphira's side.

Saphira spotted some creatures marching behind Brom's group. She glanced at the other dragons, who were already huffing in distress. _Urgals. We have to warn the old one and the other hatchlings!_

Eragon nodded and joined minds with Roran and Nasuada. _We have to tell Brom._

_There are twenty of them! The horses can't possibly outrun those, _snarled Roran.

_We'll have to think of something,_ insisted Eragon.

Together, the Riders cast their mind out and the made contact with the three on the ground. They relayed what they've seen. Flying close to the ground, the caught up with the other three dragons, who were already hovering near their Riders. Brom looked intent on outpacing the monstrous horned warriors. Eragon felt panic welling up within him. They barely made it out of their last fight with Urgals. Tense moments passed as three dragons and their Riders moved up once more to keep an eye on the monsters.

A fierce war horn sounded. The Urgals – at least twenty of them – were in sight of Brom and the others. Before the Riders could do anything, the group on the ground were about the be overtaken. They leapt off their horses and attacked the incoming wave of Urgals. Saphira landed in the middle of their group, crushing two Urgals beneath her. The other dragons followed their lead and then there was chaos.

Eragon jumped off his dragon's back, unsheathing Kylskada. The sword glowed like an extra-sharp piece of ice. With a savage war cry, he fought off Urgals, his fellow Riders at his side. Another Urgal swung a banner. "Our master wishes to speak to you, lowly humans!" he roared, brandishing a sword with his other hand.

"Who's this master of yours?" snarled Eragon, stabbing his sword into a passing Urgal's leg. Before the creature could retaliate, Saphira bit into its arm.

"Something as filthy as you do not deserve to hear his name." The Urgal standard-bearer glared at him. "He wants to talk to you alive. Be grateful."

Eragon launched himself at the speaking foe. "I don't care what in the blazes your master is," he hissed. He stabbed the Urgal in the gut. "He is my enemy, and may the crows eat the entrails of everyone who is loyal to him."

A twisted black arrow narrowly missed him. In the seconds it took to dodge it, an Urgal club came crushing down his free arm. The bone cracked painfully, and fire seared through Eragon's body. He raised his sword and poked out the attacking Urgal's eye. Another arrow struck his injured arm. He heard Saphira roar as nausea hit him. He wanted to throw up and pass out at the same time.

"Eragon –!" he heard Murtagh yell before an Urgal hit the back of his head, and everything went black.

_The gray-haired young woman from his previous dream sat in a rocking chair, singing to herself. She spoke in the Ancient Language and even though Eragon had no idea about what she was saying, he knew that great magic was at play. Around her, trees grew – like a mix between a tree and a house - and elves flitted about. A small, shaggy black kitten rubbed its head against her leg._

_ A silver-haired elf boy watched her intently. He looked barely older than six or seven years old. "What are you doing, wise one?" he asked in a soft voice._

_ "Oh, Anurin!" the woman chirped. She gave the elf boy a smile. "How old are you?"_

_ Anurin smiled back and stood beside the woman. "Wise one, I will be turning nine years old next spring! And the year after that, I will be joining the yearly dragon hatching ceremony! Do you think a dragon will hatch for me?"_

_"Yes!" The wise one nodded encouragingly. "You will make a good Rider – you and your black dragon, Evrithea. Don't forget that name when she hatches for you, understand? You will become powerful and live long. Time will come and you will strengthen the Order of the Riders and help them build their new home."_

When Eragon woke up, his head was still pounding dully. Murtagh, Saphira and Thorn were huddled around him. He groaned at his brother's overly-enthusiastic face. His mind felt fuzzy and his arm felt like it was used as firewood. "What happened?" he asked.

"When you passed out, Saphira went crazy and basically tore apart those Urgals with her rage." Murtagh grinned at the blue dragon. He scratched the stiff bandages on his shoulder. Thorn grunted. "Well, Thorn and Askanir tried to restrain her when the Urgals were dead, since she was still pretty berserk. None of them thankfully got hurt. Much. Nothing Arya and Brom can't fix."

Eragon tried to sit up, but both Saphira and Thorn restrained it. His blue dragon gave him an intense look. He frowned. "What?"

_Rest, little one. You're going to pass out if you stand up so quickly. Now if you must know, the others are quite injured too. Your brother himself almost lost his arm._ Saphira blinked and gave him her worst dragon death glare. _You should be alert for every enemy that there could be around you!_

_My partner-of-mind-and-heart was very upset over your injury,_ added Thorn.

Eragon closed his eyes as he felt dizzy once more. "I hate feeling weak and helpless."

"You're not weak, Eragon. I guess you just needed a clobbering." Murtagh grinned at him and stood up. "Now, you hungry? Brom's not yet back but he left us some breakfast."

"Yeah, I'm dying of starvation, I guess. Where are the others?"

"The old man is letting the horses graze. The others are patrolling above."

As if on cue, there was a flash of violet as Askanir landed with a dull thud. The dragon strode over to his brethren with Roran still sitting on his back and screaming for Askanir to let him walk by himself.

Askanir huffed and stopped, throwing his Rider off his back completely. Roran landed on the ground with a groan. "Bully." He stood up, rubbing his back, and waved to the twins. "Heya, seems like the slumbering Rider is awake now."

Eragon grinned. "Yes. How was your patrol?"

"No Urgals in sight, but the girls wanted to stay with their dragons a while longer and keep an eye on Brom."

By afternoon, Eragon and Murtagh took off with their dragons while the rest travelled on the ground. This time, the other four dragons flew close to them in case trouble brews up once more. The brothers were sore, but they had to go by.

* * *

The days and weeks went by in a blur. They learned more about magic and especially scrying during the day, sparred at night using their non-dominant hands and discussed possible strategies for storming Helgrind – if it truly was where Garrow could be held prisoner in. The friendship between the Riders deepened as they spent time idly with each other and their dragons. Nasuada appreciated those moments, and got to know the other five much more.

Once they reached the plains leading to Dras-Leona, the land was warming as it slowly awakened from its winter slumber. Spring was in full bloom as the entire place was bursting with vibrant plant life. Flowers of all colors bloomed, grass pushed its way out of the hardened ground and buds shot out of trees. Birds chirped and flew around them. At least the dragons were polite enough not to snap up the little fliers.

They followed the Toark River along the southeastern edge of the Spine. Its size was larger the farther along the went until it was over a league wide and still very much lively. Solaris expressed her desire to have a dip in the cool, rushing waters once they set up camp for the night, and Nasuada agreed. She desperately needed a bath. Brom said that they were two leagues away from Leona lake and might be fast enough to reach it by sunset.

Leona lake was a calm sheet of reflective water that mirrored the colorful sunset. Orange, pink, red and gold flashed on its surface, showing the dancing, lazy clouds of the late afternoon. Dras Leona was near. They camped near a group of trees and fell asleep soon after dinner without even sparring. Nasuada herself spent a few seconds wondering how quickly her left hand caught up with her right when it came to swordplay.

_You've grown stronger. Fear not, rebellious one._ Solaris laid her head beside her Rider's. _Soon I'm sure you will surpass even Cuba'ol himself._

_I may have grown stronger but not as strong as Cuba'ol, I'm sure._ Nasuada closed her eyes, remembering her father's tales of Cuba'ol, the only human Rider who hailed from the Wandering Tribes. He quickly rose among their ranks and lived for three hundred years until the Fall.

_You underestimate yourself. Give it some time. You've got years ahead of you, youngling._ Solaris hummed and promptly fell asleep.

When morning came, the air near Leona Lake felt fresher, more awakening. The water in the lake rippled lazily, reflecting her face. The others were still asleep, and Solaris hovered lazily above the water. She smiled at her dragon. _Let's go for a swim!_

Solaris landed beside her with a joyous roar that must have woken up the others. A few seconds later Eragon came stumbling towards them with Katrina right behind him. The sapphire Rider was grumbling about loss of quality sleep. Katrina rubbed her eyes and looked at the sky as Saphira and Luneria landed beside Solaris. Soon the other dragons were also landing as their Riders awakened.

After all that time, it still felt amazing. She was a Rider, and she was not alone. They were all quite young but she knew that they were the only ones standing between freedom and the darkness of the Black King.

Then Solaris coughed. _The swim?_

_ Oh, yes, I nearly forgot!_ Nasuada smiled and clambered to her dragon's back. "A swim, it is."

"You're on, Nazz!" Eragon stuck his tongue out at her.

With much laughter, Solaris launched herself into the lake, followed by Saphira and the others. The Riders' screams of exhilaration were cut off as they plunged into the clear, cold water. They broke through the surface and Nasuada took a deep breath. She smiled at the way the water made Solaris' scales shine even brighter.

They played in the water a little more, the dragons roaring every now and then, mixing with the laughter of the Riders. It was a peaceful day. After their dip, they dried their clothes with a spell that Arya taught them and ate breakfast with Brom. That was followed with the beginning of their trek around Leona lake. Above them, Luneria, Firnen and Thorn soared happily with their Riders and the three other dragons. The Riders mounted on horses resumed their training in magic and mind strength with Brom. By afternoon, they switched positions with the others, patrolling the skies and training with their dragons.

"Do you think that Garrow really is in Helgrind?" mused Katrina.

"It's worth a look," Nasuada replied. She never met the man before seeing his abduction but she saw the rage and pain that it caused the farmer's family. At night, when they thought everyone else was asleep, he could hear them talking in low voices about how to save him. "We have to try. If he's not there, maybe Arya's brother is. We won't stop looking for both of them."

Katrina sighed. "I'm not as good as the rest of you. I might get is in trouble or lose my life because of my inexperience."

"You discourage yourself so much. You've bested me in three of our sparring sessions and also knocked out Roran with magic. You just need to be tougher and believe in yourself."

That night, their individual sparring sessions with Brom weren't as long and as painful as before. The old man was easily beaten by the band of Riders that started out as four friends traveling with two others who were very much strangers. Now they were a team. Not exactly very close but they knew that they could trust and rely on everyone in their traveling party. Brom was pleased with their development and declared that he had nothing more to teach them about swordplay and that they could finally take sparring much easier.

They sat around the fire, resting their muscles. Nasuada was the first to spar with Brom and was therefore not as sore as she was before. Eragon was still grumbling about a bruised backside though. He glanced at Brom with a look in his eyes that the others already associated with curiosity and a new question. "How do you fight with magic?"

"What are you talking about?" Brom grunted as he began to wipe his boots clean.

Murtagh picked up a stick and began drawing a crude image if three dragons. "What he means is that how do we fight a spellcaster such as a Shade, or Riders like Enduriel? Can we block his magic? Magic happens as you say the words. We can't nullify or even know an enemy's intention, so it seems like you have to act first and win."

"This 'wizard's duel' is highly dangerous and is the reason why Galbatorix won the war with only a number of traitors – two actually died during the war itself. The Black King is really good when it comes to breaking into people's minds. See, rules in a magician's battle must be followed or else both sides will die. First of all, nobody casts spells until someone has broken into a foe's mind."

Solaris grunted and addressed everyone. _Why would you wait for that? When it happens,your enemy will realize it and then it's too late to do anything to fight back._

"Well, if I were to overpower you right now then you will certainly die. There is a brief moment for a counterattack though. When you get into the enemy's mind, you can anticipate and counter things he wants to do. You're doomed if you don't know how to counteract spells." Brom shrugged and lit his pipe. "For example, you're attacked by heat. How does he do it? Is he using air? Light? Fire? How will you counteract it? Chill the heated material?"

"Not even the elves are sure to win a battle of wills and cleverness," said Arya. She looked at her friends thoughtfully.

"Nobody ever survived for more than a few seconds. If you don't have the proper training then you'll die quickly and painfully. Your training for that will come soon but for now, you'll just have to run and pray if you find an enemy spellcaster."

With that thought, Brom chided the Riders for staying up late and forced them to turn in for the night.

* * *

**I've recieved rather polarizing reactions over my Brisingr plan. Well, it's still really far ahead and things will come up or not which will affect the sword naming. Let's just wait for things to happen, I guess? :)**

**You guys are amazing! I love every single reviewer both anon and not!**

**Review for their success in the Helgrind mission!**


	13. The Ominously Evil Rock of Doom

**Disclaimer: I don't own the series.**

**A short short chapter, but I wanted a cliffhanger before the real battle starts! I'm just mean that way.**

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Ominously Evil Rock of Doom**

Lunch in a quaint lakeside village like Fasaloft perked up the young Riders. They listened for local rumors for a moment, which only consisted of an angry orange dragon and twisted creatures reported to be flying around Helgrind. Luckily there were no rumors about any of the Riders and their dragons.

The remainder of their journey was pleasant, though the dragons had to stay hidden once more as people began to populate the worn-out road to Dras-Leona. Their instruction in magic was also halted since their fellow travelers might notice and become suspicious. Instead, they turned to practicing their mind-blocking and mind-breaching techniques. It still wasn't perfect but they were getting better at it. And with a powerful elven Rider like Enduriel for a foe, protecting their minds was important. They also refrained from sparring after dinner. Girls learning swordplay was rare enough and with their Rider swords, they will surely catch unwanted attention.

When they were just a day's ride away from Dras-Leona, Roran felt excited. They were going to save his father. He just knew it. _You have to be careful. _Askanir told him. He was uneasy. _We can't help unless you're going to that ominously evil rock of doom._

Roran grinned. _It's called Helgrind, and I believe that it could be where Father is. We'll investigate in the city and tell you what we find._

Askanir showed him a mental picture of tearing the mountains apart to save him. _Listen to Brom, understand? He knows a lot. It will be more difficult to search for Arya's brother if we gain the king's attention. Be careful, strong one._

Roran nodded and smiled. _You're the best, Askanir._

Like the way that Carvahall is more organized than cluttered little Therinsford, Dras-Leona was a big, ugly mess compared to the strategic structure that is Teirm. Muddy, dilapitated buildings were sprawled haphazardly by Leona Lake. A massive, jagged mountain loomed nearby, looking like a terrifying church that worshipped something demonic. As if on cue, Brom pointed to that blasted place. "Helgrind. It's why the city was built – people were fascinated with that malevolent place."

Inside the city, the tallest thing was a massive cathedral that looked like a miniature version of Helgrind. Roran shuddered. "What do they worship?"

"That blasted mountain itself." Brom's eyes darkened. "It's a twisted religion. Members drink human blood and make flesh offerings. The priests chop up their own body parts in the belief that you are less attached to the mortal world with the less fless you have. They waste time arguing about the height of the three peaks and whether the fourth – and smallest – should also be worshipped."

"Elves believe in no higher beings but other races' religions have interested me. This one is so sickening though." Arya rubbed her belly sadly. "I guess we can't say that to a believer."

"Of course not. You'll easily lose a hand for 'penance', naturally." Brom shook his head, clearly disgusted.

The tall and thin houses nearest to the barely guarded wall were made of brown wood and were definitely filthy. The air stank like uncleaned sewers. Children in ragged clothes argued over meager food and deformed beggars moaned and pleaded for money. _Even animals are treated bether than them,_ he snarled to the other Riders.

_I don't want to stay here either,_ replied Eragon.

"It's better farther in," Brom assured them.

It was exactly as he said. The houses were better in the more affluent section of Dras-Leona, making a stark contrast to the poverty near the gates. _How can they leave affluently when sadness and poverty is around them? At least in Carvahall, we helped each other the best we could._ Murtagh glared at the massive houses around them.

The Golden Globe, the cheapest tavern that wasn't squalid, was full that night, so they decided to lodge in a better one, namely The Dancing Dragon. Brom shared a room with the boys while the girls stayed in their own.

Roran set his pack on the floor and examined the comfortable-looking beds. He was going to have a good night's sleep in Dras-Leona, at least. He couldn't say the same for the poor people who populated its entrance. "What now?"

Brom grinned. "Food and beer. We'll start our search tomorrow. Make sure not to blow your cover, the consequences will be dire for us."

The food and beer were excellent. Though Katrina and Nasuada naturally declined to have a drink, Arya argued and even had a drinking contest with Murtagh that ended up with both of them slumped on the table and horribly, horribly drunk. When Roran fell asleep later that night, his head was buzzing pleasantly. He even ignored Askanir's curiosity over Dras-Leona and amazement that his Rider actually went drinking.

When he woke up, he was experiencing the legendary hangover that his father talked about back home. His head pounded and he felt like his brain wasn't going to function well. He heard Murtagh groaning about his headache and Eragon actually fell out of his bed with a yelp. He rubbed his forehead, apparently unaware that both Roran and Murtagh were being heavily bothered by even the slightest sound.

_Your head seems about ready to explode,_ noted Askanir.

_Shut up,_ growled Roran.

Brom stumbled out of his bed groggily. "Come on, let's recover downstairs."

They found Arya crouched outside the girls' room, holding her head. Luckily her magic held and she still looked human. She looked up at them with her piercing green eyes. "You did not tell me that it isn't like faelnirv," she complained.

"Don't even know what in the blazes faelnirv is," retorted Murtagh. "Come on, Brom said that we'll recover downstairs."

Roran had no idea what they were going to do but he didn't expect them to drink lots of tea, ice water and brandy. Well, at least they could function somewhat properly after that. Once they were all set, they went around the city asking about the trail of Seithr oil and what happened to it.

More than once they passed by a massive granite palace that was taller than everything aside from the cathedral. The courtyard was decorated with mother-of-pearl while gold lined the walls. There were black statues in alcoves, holding smoking incense. Guards were stationed all around it, glaring at random people passing by.

"Who lives there?" asked Katrina. Even under the opressive skies of the city, her hair gleamed like burnished copper. By the lost kings, she was pretty.

"The city ruler, Marcus Tabor lives there," Brom said distastefully. "He's loyal to his king – and his highly inactive conscience."

By afternoon, the group split up. Brom took Roran and Murtagh with him. Nasuada and Eragon left together, leaving Katrina and Arya to team up. They tried to be as charming as possible, asking shopkeepers about simple questions that lead nearer and nearer to the Seither oil. Their questions brought them all around the city. While Brom entered another jewelry shop, Roran and Murtagh stayed outside, listening to some gossiping housewives.

"…and my youngest, Fraith, finally joined the acolytes at the cathedral!" A particularly elderly woman was talking, dressed in silvery-gray silks that did nothing to flatter her lumpy figure. She lowered her voice to a hush. "To be honest, I'm not so thrilled. He's such a beautiful child, and he was to wed Lord Tabor's daughter until she succumbed to her illness. He went mad with grief and decided that he had a religious calling. I was hoping that he could be wed to someone else."

"Did you hear?" a long-nosed, black-haired woman said. She was dressed in a severe brown dress. "The king will visit here this week to punish Lord Tabor for using his power to abuse people. Your son is better off without his daughter."

Roran and Murtagh stared at each other in horror. "Do you think he knows about us?" Murtagh asked.

Roran shrugged. "I'm sure he does. Enduriel saw us didn't he? He doesn't know where we are right now though, or we're probably dead meat already."

When they relayed the news to Brom, he looked troubled. His eyes seemed to take on a redder hue as he glanced at the sky. "This is bad news. We have to talk to the others. We conclude our work here and move on as fast as we can."

That night, they met up and ate dinner in a secluded part of The Dancing Dragon's tavern, where there was no chance of anybody overhearing them. Just to make sure, Brom casted a spell of silence and diversion. He looked wearier when he was finished. Arya put down her tea and leaned forward on the table. "So what did you learn today?"

"The blasted king is coming here within the weak," grunted Roran.

"Do you think he knows about us?" asked Nasuada.

Brom nodded, drawing gasps from the other Riders. "He does, Enduriel and the Ra'zac made sure of that. None of them have any idea about our location though, of that I'm sure. His lackeys will be here, preparing for his visit."

"Does that mean that we have to sava Uncle Garrow before he comes?" Panic set into Eragon's eyes as he looked around wildly. "Let's go to Helgrind now!"

"Are you seriously insane? We'll get torn to pieces without the right preparation! Besides, we're not even sure if they truly are in that accursed mountain." Murtagh shook his head. "You're right though, the king will blast us to bits – if Enduriel doesn't."

"That's right. Caution. So what have you learned today?" Brom asked.

While the others were busy talking about bits and pieces concerning the trail of oil, he caught Katrina staring at him. _What?_

Katrina bit her lip. _I'm not a fighter. I'll only slow you down. Maybe I'll just ride on Luneria as she fights or something…_

_Of course not! You're gentle and caring but you're a fighter! The bruises on my backside from our old sparring sessions can definitely tell you of your fighting prowess._

"Well, Eragon and I met someone who works on the Seithr oil shipments," said Nasuada, breaking Roran and Katrina out of their silent conversation. "We were led to a warehouse where we, uh, bribed the workers and they told us where they brought the oil."

"It went straight to the palace," Eragon muttered. "So we went around and wandered. Luckily we're wearing the fine clothes from Jeod and we didn't look so out of place. We were invited to the palace when we said that we're bards and we amused some servants with the stories and songs that you tell around the bonfire and back in the village. Nazz here even said –"

"Will you please stop calling me that?" snapped Nasuada.

"Sorry, Nasuada here even said that I was as good as Brom. So anyway, we did chat with the maids, asking them randomly about gossip. Servants find out a lot, and I mean a lot! One of the earls have three mistreses! Anyway, Nasuada will be angry if I don't let her tell you about our most important discovery."

"Every full moon, two slaves are sent out with provisions. They also bring Seithr oil if there's some brought to Dras-Leona. The slaves never return and when someone was sent to follow them, he never returned either."

"The Riders abolished human slave trade, right?" asked Arya.

"Well, our old friend Galby reinstated it," muttered Brom. "So they're in Helgrind or somewhere close to that. They'll either be at the bottom, with a thick stone door or somewhere at the top where only flying mounts like the Lethrblaka or dragons can access. The Ra'zac and all of Dras-Leona will see us flying if that's the case."

"There's a lot of us," Roran pondered. How could things be so difficult now that they're nearing their first goal? "We can't just pose as slaves."

"It seems like a head-on attack is inevitable." Brom shook his head. "We'll leave tomorrow morning, when they're at their weakest. I don't know what we're going to do to avoid Dras-Leona's citizens from spotting us."

* * *

The morning light filtered through the room, warming it. Arya awakened from her fitful slumber, dreaming of unknown terrors and the sinister dragon that Enduriel was bonded with. She recalled how the sinister elf watched coldly as his kinsmen and fellow Forsworn, Kialandi, killed Arya's father when she was ten years old. There was nothing that she could do, and her brother was away in the Varden. Her mother was busy tending to the wounded and had no idea.

Until her daughter screamed in terror and the sinister Riders advanced upon her.

_Are you ready, little pointy-ears?_ Firnen asked in excitement. He showed her a mental image of biting and snapping the Lethrblaka's necks.

Arya smiled. _But of course._ She rose to her feet, packed up and got ready for the day. Once she was properly dressed and armed, she left the already empty room and headed downstairs. Murtagh and Roran were eating and had a plate of food ready for her.

"Good morning, you overslept," Roran told her with a friendly smile. Among the boys of Carvahall, he was the most warm and friendly. Murtagh was a little too brooding and Eragon's mouth moved faster than his brain.

Murtagh pushed the plate towards her. "Thought you might need the food. I think we've got a long day ahead. We probably won't reach Helgrind 'till a couple more hours."

Arya thanked him and began to eat the bread and cheese. She began to dig in quickly, knowing that time is of the essence. She heard Roran and Murtagh talking quietly of the plans they made the previous night, though they were polite enough to let her eat in peace. They both seemed nervous as they finished their meal.

"Well, we better go. I'm sure we'll feel better once Uncle is back with us," muttered Murtagh. He stood up and waited for the two others to stand too. Together, they headed outside the city where the others were waiting.

The others were lying hidden at the edge of a sandy hill that was dotted with grass, strane little cactuses and the remains of last year's plant life. Arya crawled over to hide between Nasuada and Katrina, who both looked terrified. The sinister black mountain, Helgrind, loomed before them like a structure made of the darkness that pervaded throughout Alagaesia. The sun was well up when their journey ended at the very edge of the mountains. It was just after lunch, and they were feeling full but highly alert. They spent a few hours moving around the place until they could barely see Dras-Leona and the dragons could hide better from the city.

They saw Enduriel's orange dragon flying in the sky earlier that day, and Arya was sure that he spotted them too. If that was the case then he pretended otherwise, since he did one big scan of the sky before landing and vanishing in Helgrind. That was hours before they reached its outskirts.

_Now, if Garrow truly isn't here then we must capture at least one Ra'zac and interrogate it. Don't worry, because I'm with you._ Brom gave them a falsely reassuring smile. He seemed to boost Katrina's morale though. _Now, let's go._

_He's there!_ Askanir's voice rang out. _I didn't even reach out for any minds but I felt my youngling's nest-mate! He's there!_

Relief flooded through everyone, like a wind passing through a field of wheat. Arya remembered her days in the forest of Du Weldenvarden, sneaking around the trees whenever her brother was around. She remembered him reviewing a certain spell that would prove useful to them.

_Don't worry, little pointy-ears. You've got my strength too,_ Firnen told her excitedly. The dragons were hiding a few miles behind them to avoid detection. He didn't seem to pleased about the horses that they were protecting for the meantime.

Arya smiled and uttered the words of power that they needed. She smiled. "That will protect us from the Ra'zac's paralyzing breath. And my mother told me that sneaking around when my brother was training will bring nothing but trouble."

With loud thuds, the dragons came flying towards them, as if sensing their Riders about to storm Helgrind. Brom nodded approvingly. "Yes, I think it would be helpful. Hop on. Though… I think I might need to join one of you."

"Well, you're riding with Thorn and me, old man," said Murtagh. He clambered up his dragon's back and held out a hand to help Brom.

Arya climbed Firnen's back. "Are you ready, partner of my heart and mind?"

Firnen dipped his head. _Of course._

The dragons flew up, circling the air as they gained altitude. They angled towards Helgrind with joy and bloodlust in their eyes. The clouds moved aside lazily and uncovered the sun, showering the land beneath them with vibrant colors and making the dragons shimmer. Helgrind remained the same way though – black, dead and ominous. The dragons spiralled around it, searching for a way in. Nothing grew in any spot in and around the mountain, like its very existence leeched the vicinity of its life or fertility.

_Look!_ Katrina cried out. She pointed a small blue gentian blooming in front of them. _That's solid rock, isn't it? Light doesn't even shine there._

Luneria perched on a spur to the right in order to help them examine it closer. She flared her silver wings to steady herself, and their tips didn't brush the rock that were supposed to be there. Her right wingtip went right into the rock and out again. Katrina's eyes widened. The dragon's head slowly slid into Helgrind.

_It's an illusion. Be careful,_ warned Brom.

Luneria jumped into the hidden entrance, followed by Solaris and Firnen. Arya did her best to clutch her saddle and make sure that she didn't scream. Inside Helgrind was a massive vaulted cave that was glowing dimly with the sun. The dragons' scales reflected the light and casted brilliant flecks of color on the rock. Behind them, there was no sign of the illusory wall. Arya was amazed at the scope of Galbatorix's power.

The six Riders jumped off, but Brom stayed on Thorn's back, hidden from view by the dragon's neck. The opening behind them was a gaping maw at least sixty feet wide, and Arya hoped that it was enough to help them escape. The cave itself extended far until it was just a mass of angled stone slabs. The edge of the entrance was badly scratched – obviously because the Lethrblaka and a dragon landed and took off from that spot. There were five low tunnels branching from the main one and a tall, pointed passageway that could accommodate a big dragon.

_Those five tunnels are clear,_ said Brom

Arya focused on her breathing. To be honest, their breaths seemed overly loud in the confines of the cave. She could hear scurrying creatures and a low humming. The place reeked of rotting meat that sickened her. There was a loud rustling and horrible clicking noises. Arya pulled out her sword, glittering green in the semidarkness, like a hammer striking rocks.

A twisted creature scurried from the pointed passageway, and it was a horrible sight. Its leathery skin was pale and yellowish, with black, bulging eyes, seven-foot long beak, a hairless torso and iron-sharp claws. It was followed by another of its kind, and then a massive, orange dragon with an elf sitting on its back. The dragons and their Riders froze, unable to move with his magic like before.

"Welcome to the Ra'zac's lair, young Riders. I was wondering when you would arrive. My guest was getting bored and my Lethrblaka friends are getting hungry."

"Release us, bastard," snarled Murtagh. He was about to speak more when he fell quiet. Something choked off their voices.

Enduriel smiled and cried out a string of words in the Ancient Language. Brom was faster. A flash of pale blue fire lanced out of his outstretched fingers, and the place rumbled. It began to cave in.

"Watch out!" Murtagh pushed Arya out of the way, sending her tumbling into Eragon's arms. A piece of rock fell on top of him, pinning the boy to the ground.

* * *

**Actually, I'm such a lazy bum and was also away for the whole day, messing up my writing time. So anyway, I'll update soon to make up for this and to give a meaty battle scene! Though to be honest, I'm bad at those.**

**There's this original material that I'm working on. Should I post it in Fictionpress?**

**Review for Murtagh's sake and the outcome of their fight!**


	14. Battles and Victory

**Disclaimer: I don't own the series.**

**A quick update, since I will be busy reading House of Hades in the next few days while still working on the next update, of course, and my job.**

**Anyway, not my best chapter. I haven't done the fight scenes any justice and the character reactions are just bleh.**

**Read on for the next part of the storming of Helgrind and beyond~!**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Battles and Victory**

Pain. Yes, Murtagh was definitely alive. The massive rock on his backside was sending a jolt of pain down his legs and up his back. He hoped that it won't leave lasting damage. Thorn kicked off the massive rock and he heard Brom utter another word that was lost in a crackle of lightning. He fought off the pain and uttered a quick "waise heill" to help himself as he stood up shakily. The dragons launched themselves towards their older foe and the Lethrblaka while the other Riders were trying to fend off the Lethrblaka to assist Solaris and Askanir in their efforts. Enduriel slid down his dragon and drew his own sword.

The blade flashed orange – vibrant and sickening at the same time. Brom slid down Thorn's back. "Enduriel. I haven't seen you in a long time, lad." He drew Undbitr and gritted his teeth.

"You're looking, ah, youthful, Brom." Enduriel smiled.

Murtagh grabbed his sword and ran towards the Lethrblaka that Solaris was trying to tear apart. Roran and Eragon were already trying to hack the monster to pieces but it was too leathery. Murtagh tried to plant his sword into the thrashing creature's leg but failed. The skin really was too tough. The horrible stench coming from both Lethrblaka was horrible, like rotten meat and sewage festering for years together.

Roran cried out as the Lethrblaka threw him off. He landed with a thud near a tunnel where the two Ra'zac emerged. Murtagh ran towards him but his cousin was quite busy himself. The pale blades in the malevolent, black-skinned creatures' hands gleamed threateningly. Without thinking, Murtagh met the nearest one's sword, giving his cousin time to recover.

The creatues' jerky movements were vaguely like an insect's, and difficult to predict. Around him, Murtagh could still hear the sounds of different battles raging on. He reached out with his mind, trying to break into the Ra'zac's thoughts. He couldn't feel anything from them – or the Lethrblaka behind him that was screeching angrily. Maybe it was something they were gifted with, to increase their strength as predators.

"Blasted creatures! Kveykva!" Roran yelled, sending a bolt of lightning dancing towards the Ra'zac. Before it could hit them, it veered off to the left and hit a wall.

Murtagh's sword clashed against the bigger Ra'zac, though it was far stronger than he was. Pain shot through his arm and his injured back as he tried to fend off blow after blow. The dragons managed to injure the screeching Lethrblaka. Thorn sent him a mental image of two angry monsters trying to swat down the injured Solaris and Askair. Thorn himself was bleeding from a couple of shallow wounds.

Eragon ran towards him, raising Kylskada and charging towards the second Ra'zac. "Go on, Ro, get your dad! We'll handle these!"

Roran nodded, not even complaining about the mention of his childhood nickname. He bolted off into the corridor behind the Ra'zac. The angry monsters glared at the twins, sending a chill down their spines.

_Nasty,_ muttered Eragon.

Murtagh nodded. In that brief moment that he lost focus, the Ra'zac managed to twist his blade out of his hands and pushed him to the ground. In panic, he blurted out the two random spells. "Garzjla, letta!" Energy rushed out of him as the Lethrblaka's eyes turned milky, seeing through Thorn. Did he blind the monsters? Why didn't he do it for the Ra'zac?

Eragon used his blade to knock off the Ra'zac away from Murtagh. "They're immune to blatantly harmful spells and yet indirect ones work!" He ducked as the blinded Ra'zac went after him.

With a lucky strike, Murtagh sliced the Ra'zac's side. It was thrown away and landed on its back. He ran towards it and raised its sword, disgusted at the blue-green blood running down its blade. He planted it in the Ra'zac's abdomen full-force. He wasn't strong enough though, and the blade only entered halfway.

The creature tried to stab his throat but he bent backwards, pulling out his sword in the process. He could feel Thorn dodging orange fire from the raging dragon, and Enduriel's sword clashing with Brom's own. The Ra'zac shrieked and managed to scuttle to its feet. It slashed Murtagh's leg, making it flare up in pain. What was it with injuries that day?

The dragons – both ally and foe – along with the Lethrblaka launched themselves out of the cavern and into the open air outside to continue their battle. The two Ra'zac shrieked, turned and ran into the depths of the nearest tunnel. _Darn it, that's where Roran went!_ Murtagh called out to Eragon, who nodded. Together, the two tired and exhausted brothers ran after the Ra'zac, followed by the other Riders who lost their foes when the dragons and the Lethrblaka disappeared in the open sky.

_What's going on?_ Nasuada stumbled in exhaustion as they wound deeper into the stinking tunnel.

_The Ra'zac escaped. Roran's in there too!_ Eragon's panic was overwhelming, sent out in waves among the five Riders. He stumbled and grabbed his brother's arm to steady himself. _If we were only stronger, this wouldn't have happened!_

_ Don't worry! At least we managed to injure them! A little more and I'm sure that those buggers will bite the dust._ Murtagh took a deep, calming breath.

They soon plunged into darkness so absolute that they could barely see. Arya took the lead. _I can see a little better than you when it comes to darkness. Don't worry, and stay alert. We have to finish this quickly and help Brom._

The five Riders held on to each other's belts, fearful of the dark. They neared the end of the tunnel when there was a loud twanging sound. As if by instinct, the Riders tried to dodge whatever it was. A searing wound marred Eragon's face, and the boy cried out in pain. As if on cue, the ground began to tremble.

_Calm yourself!_ Murtagh couldn't do anything else for his brother at the moment. "Kveykva!" he yelled, and the place sizzled with a sourceless red light.

The lone Ra'zac before them dropped its bow with a shriek and covered its eyes. A screech behind them meant that the other Ra'zac was close. As if on cue, the twins charged towards their chosen opponents as the tremors in the cavern seized. Murtagh launched himself at the bleeding Ra'zac that was about to stab Nasuada, and with a resounding crunch, he buried Eldsvard deep within its gut. He heard Eragon cry out. He whirled around to see his brother clutching his wounded cheek, with a dead Ra'zac by his feet. Arya knelt by him and uttered words of healing to repair his bubbling wound. It was probably caused by Seithr oil, making Murtagh shudder.

"Thank you," Nasuada told him, shaken. "If you didn't smash that one, I would be dead by now."

"You're welcome." Murtagh gave her a small grin.

Using the new light in the corridor, the Riders continued on their way, inspecting the ironbound doors apparently didn't experience being opened for a handful of years. They found one that was open, and within the frightful cell was the very man that they wanted to save.

Garrow looked worse than before. If he was skinny before, then now he was nothing more than a skeleton with his pale skin thinly stretched over it. His gray hair was thin, and his eyes were sunken. He looked filthy and yet joy flared out across his face as his eyes travelled from Roran – who was sitting beside him on his cot, to the twins. He rose to his feet as Eragon and Murtagh shuffled forward. With a cry of happiness, Garrow flung his weak, trembling arms around the and began to sob.

"I thought I would never see any of you again!" he said in a croaky voice. He motioned for Roran to rise and enveloped him in the same embrace. None moved or spoke for a moment.

"We'll never let that happen, Uncle. We had to save you." Murtagh grinned.

Garrow stepped back with pride and joy in his eyes. "So it is true, then? That the three of you are Riders?"

"Four of us, actually. We joined up with two more afterwards." Roran motioned to the girls. "Of course, you know Katrina. This is Nasuada from the south, and Arya of the north. We did come here to rescue you while Brom trained us in the ways of the Riders."

"Brom knew a lot, you see." Eragon couldn't stop chattering as they led the man out of his prison cell. "We learned about fighting and magic and dragons! Saphira will be pleased to meet you!"

"Speaking of the old man, we better go and help Brom right now." Murtagh hefted his sword.

Arya sheathed her blade and moved towards Garrow. "Don't worry. I'll stay with you while they handle our escape."

As they moved out of the tunnel, they saw an unexpected scene. Brom stood before an unconscious, injured Enduriel, exhausted, bloodied and battered. Around him were the six glittering dragons, injured and stained with the greenish Lethrblaka blood but otherwise fine. Brom glanced at the approaching Riders. "Not enough strength to break his wards and kill him. We'll have to do that in another time. For now, we have to get out of here, fetch the horses and escape."

_ Escape. That sounds good enough._ Murtagh smiled as he clambered up Thorn and helping Brom settle behind him. Askanir sniffed as Roran and an amazed Garrow climbed up his back.

The dragons roared and launched themselves out of Helgrind, leaving the stench of death behind them. A massive orange heap could be spotted at the foot of the mountain, along with two, massive pale blotches. _The Lethrblaka are dead but Melvir is only unconscious,_ explained Thorn. _The idiot dragon bashed his head into the mountain._

_ That explained the little, er, earthquake._ Murtagh rubbed his dragon's bleeding neck and uttered the lone healing spell that he knew. The skin and scales knit themselves together. _I'm sore._

_Well, I'm sore too. I hope we get to eat soon. I need to eat!_

Murtagh began to heal the rest of Thorn's wounds before tending to Brom. They landed beside the horses, who were picketed behind a cluster of trees. While Brom untied them, Murtagh glanced at the skies. "Eragon and I can do patrol with two others, look for someplace to hide in for tonight. Uncle needs to rest before we travel," he said.

"Right." Eragon patted Saphira's back as the other Riders jumped off their dragons and mounted their horses.

Garrow rode on Snowfire, gently patting the restless horse's back. He glanced at Roran and the twins. "My troublesome triplets are growing up so fast." He broke into a smile. "Make sure to come back down from the skies before dinnertime, you two. I won't have you skipping meals just because the sky is so damn fun."

"Of course we will!" The twins nodded and spoke together. They gave their uncle identical smiles of mischief as Thorn and Saphira took off, tailed by the four other dragons.

* * *

Roran was still smiling as they made their way into the wilderness. They killed the Ra'zac and their horrible mounts and escaped Enduriel the Broken. He had his father back and they'll rescue Arya's brother somehow. They will join the Varden and help in their efforts to bring down the Black King and his six remaining Forsworn. He hoped it would be as easy as it sounded.

"I never thought that I would live to see the day that dragons would take to the skies once more," Garrow mused with a smile. "I hoped that you could've told me sooner, you four. Meeting a dragon and a Rider is the greatest of honors."

"I'm sorry. We're sorry." Roran could feel Murtagh and Eragon listening in and he pushed them out with amusement. "We didn't know what to do, and the king might've ran after us sooner."

"Just glad that you came when you did. I was almost going crazy in there. The mad elf kept talking about the king coming over in a week to make me swear some oaths."

Roran supressed a shudder. So that was the real reson behind the king's trip to Dras-Leona? To turn his father against him? "I'm glad too." He cast his mind out, trying to contact Askanir. _Hey, you listening to me?_

_ Yes. Are you done with your teary reunion?_ Askanir's mind overflowed with childlike curiosity over the new "two-legs."

_It's not a teary reunion! So how are things faring up there?_

Askanir showed him an image of the dragon racing with Thorn and Firnen, while Murtagh is screaming for his dragon to stop. _We're doing fine. Exercise is good when your body hurts after a good hunt._

Roran grinned. _We should talk more later. It seems like you're… preoccupied._ He cut off his connection. "Sorry, Father. I was talking to Askanir."

"That violet dragon, it's yours?" Garrow asked. "It's magnificent."

"Askanir isn't my dragon, as a matter of fact. He's the partner of my mind and heart."

"You've grown more than I expected you to," Garrow said with pride in his voice.

Roran smiled. He never imagined that his father would be pleased and proud of him. He fell quiet, unable to say anything. A lump formed on his throat and turned to staring at the sky. Nobody spoke for a while, not even Brom and the girls. It left him a lot of time to think. He used to be one of three farmboy cousins raised as brothers. He was often the voice of reason bridging Eragon's rudeness and Murtagh's lack of concern – and now both his cousins seemed to be mellowing down. His problems used to consist of how to catch Katrina's eye and do his chores efficiently. Things have changed so suddenly and quickly for him.

_Would you have prefered it if you remained in there as a farmboy?_ Askanir asked him, pained.

Roran almost cringed from the sorrow in his dragon's voice. _No, it isn't like that. I was just wondering about how much my life has changed. Here we are, traveling, battling Ra'zac and outsmarting one of the Forsworn. It makes it difficult to believe that I grew up from a farm._

_To my kind, it does not matter where you came from or what you are. What matters the most is the dragon within you._

Hours passed in silence. Once night began to fall, they found the dragons perched on a massive sandstone formation that looked like a massive hill dotted with caves of varying sizes. There were other similar formations around the area. Thorn and Saphira were circling the sky with their Riders, keeping an eye out for danger. Upon spotting them, the two dragons landed before the small group.

"We've found a place where we can all fit – though the horses might need to stay in a different cave," said Eragon.

With an hour of pushing and shoving the horses, they managed to successfully camp in a network of caves big enough for the dragons and the Riders, with a small passageway leading to the place where the horses stayed in. They were too exhausted to make even small talk that night, so after a quick meal, they quickly fell asleep.

* * *

Morning was sweet. The taste of their most recent victory was still fresh, and the excess excitement from it lingered. It was probably the reason why Eragon woke up as early as he did, when the sky was still dark around him. Everyone else was sleeping – exhausted, no doubt, from their adventure the previous day and recovering from their various injuries. He moved to the ledge outside the cave and watched the twinkling sky. All was well that day.

The sun was merely a pale blotch in the horizon when he felt someone exit the cave and sit beside him. The smell of spices told him that it was Katrina. "It is a beautiful day, isn't it?" she asked softly.

"True." Eragon glanced at her. "It's too early for you to be awake."

"I can't sleep – not anymore, with all the snoring." Katrina smiled. "Roran is happy to have his father back."

"Anyone would be. You know, I would be happy just to know who it is that sired me. Is he a good man? A farmer? Or maybe a lord in some grand city?"

"Whoever he is, I'm sure he's better than the father who sired me. I still stay up late at night, wondering why I was upset the day we left. He doted on me in public, yelled and hit me when we were at home. He kept screeching and complaining that I was too much like my mother."

The two sat in silence, watching the sun slowly crawl up the sky, warming the land and sending out another message – hope. Maybe there was still hope in the oppressed lands of Alagaesia. For a moment, nothing stirred. Eventually though, sounds of waking permeated the air as the wildlife around them and the people behind began to wake up. Without a word, Eragon and Katrina walked back inside.

The smell of cooking breakfast tickled their senses. Murtagh was tending to the stew while Arya and Roran huddled nearby. Nasuada was doing some stretches in one corner, conversing with Solaris. The other dragons were standing by the entrance with Brom and Garrow.

Eragon found Saphira and walked towards her. "Good morning," he said.

_Good morning, little one._ Saphira dipped her head, her blue eyes level with his own. _I'm going hunting with Firnen._

_Are you sure that you're only going hunting?_ Eragon asked with a grin.

_Of course,_ sniffed Saphira. _We dragons have agreed not to look for suitable mates until the war is over. We can't lay eggs in this dangerous world. We won't let our children live in danger and fear of being hunted down by the Oath-breakers._

Eragon rubbed her scaly snout. _I understand. We'll make it happen, all of us. There will be a world where you'll be free to mate and save your race._

Saphira let out a rumbling dragon laugh. _I love you, little one. We won't be far, so don't hesitate to talk to me if you need to._

Together, she and Firnen – who was previously conversing with his own Rider – shuffled out of the cave and took off into the gloriously warm day. Eragon smiled and took his place between Roran and Murtagh as everyone converged around the simmering food. The other dragons let out appreciative snorts before slowly moving out of the cave to look for a meal. Murtagh distributed their food with a smile.

Brom watched everyone intently, wineskin in hand. "We'll spend today resting and making plans. I don't believe for a minute that Enduriel will pursue us without the Ra'zac to aid him. If I know one thing about him, it's that he refuses to work with a lot of the remaining Forsworn and needs lackeys to move. He will probably request for some assistance from the King in the form of new henchmen."

"You know much about that forsaken man, and about dragonlore in general." Garrow stopped eating. "You know a lot more than an average village fortuneteller would. Who are you, Brom?"

Calmly, Brom poured wine on his left hand and washed it. Brown dye came off, revealing a gedwey ignasia on the man's palm, the spiral, shimmering dragon shape glinting in the firelight. "I am old, older than you see. Once upon a time, I was a Rider, chosen to join their ranks at the age of ten. I trained and befriended Morzan. It was long before he was one of the Forsworn. Twenty years of friendship, and never did I suspect him of the evil that he will bring our kingdom."

"A Rider!" Eragon's eyes widened in surprise. So that's how he managed to teach so much, and know so much about the Fall.

"If you said that back in Carvahall, we never would have believed you," added Murtagh.

"When Morzan betrayed our order, he slew my dragon. Her name – her name was Saphira. He slew my dragon and to avenge her, my sister Ellina seduced and tried to assassinate him. He had always been smitten by her and never saw through it until one night. And he killed her in her sleep. He gave me her sword to gloat." Bitterness crept up Brom's voice. "He had a passion for horrible things, and took away everything I loved. And I still grieve for them until now."

"And you never told us before?" Roran snarled.

"Brom the former Rider needed to disappear – especially after surviving a brush with Morzan with six dragon eggs in tow and knowing the hiding place of six Rider swords – aside from mine."

Murtagh stared at his sword with sorrow. "Your sister – she owned this sword, didn't she?"

"Grendel, Ellina and Servan were my siblings. They and their dragons fell during the war." Brom closed his eyes. "And the others were my close friends. I took their their swords, kept them safe. I prayed that they and my Saphira could be avenged and that our order could be revived. They lie buried in Ellesmera, waiting for that day."

Arya put down her bowl, a steely glint in her eyes. She smiled dangerously. "I think that I've seen those graves, marked only with gems. Our swords will rest someday with their rightful owners. For now, we use them. When we visit Ellesmera, I shall – ahem – convince Rhunon to make us our own swords."

Eragon smiled. It felt right – giving the swords back to their rightful owners while getting one made just for them. "Now, what are we to do next?"

"Before we plan our next move, we must know a few things. Garrow," Brom said, resuming his breakfast once more. "Have you heard of some important details during your captivity?"

Garrow closed his eyes. "The king plans on investigating Carvahall. I must return and warn the villagers of the danger. It's important. And there's an elf taken captive in Gil'ead. I believe that the king wishes to meet with him soon."

"This is too much. You've endured so much, Garrow," said Nasuada. "You can't just travel back there and risk being captured again. You should come with us. We will protect you until we can reach the Varden."

"No, I can't. Someone they know and trust has to warn them. It's the way of Carvahall, my dear. It has been amazing, meeting you all and learning about this world." Garrow smiled. "But we must part ways soon."

"We will all go to Gil'ead. We will rescue the elf, and I will introduce you to my friend who can help you return to Carvahall quickly." Brom bowed his head.

While everyone was busy discussing Gil'ead and how to break into a heavily fortified prison and Roran tried to convince Garrow to stay, Eragon excused himself and walked out of the cave once more. It just wasn't fair. Why would his uncle return to Carvahall? He was kidnapped there, his life put in danger. How can he possibly reach that place, warn the villagers and stay safe?

_Saphira, are you there?_

_I come._

Moments passed in silence. The hope and joy that filled him just mere hours before was depleted now. What was the point of their adventure if Garrow was to leave and put his life in danger again?

_He thinks he is doing what is best. The way every being acts._ With a loud thud, Saphira landed before him. There was a sad glint in her eye. _Little one, I don't think that you can convince him otherwise._

_I know. It's what terrifies me._ Eragon threw his arms around her neck. He could hear her humming softly, reassuringly. _I'm glad that you're here for me._

_And I you, little one. I couldn't have chosen another Rider._

* * *

**So. Another long and winding speech. Thank you, dear reviewers for your continued words of encouragement, tips and spotting out my mistakes. If you guys have noticed, English is actually my second language. It might seem like it's my third, actually, since the two local dialects that I learned before it look like different languages too. I'm not so keen on some of the suggestions like taking inspirations from other series though I'm very grateful for your suggestions and continued interest in my humble little fanfic. :) I hope you guys can hang on, I think we're more than halfway through this installment.**

**My original story is almost nearing the conclusion of the first chapter. Should I upload it or not? Hmmm, serious conflict.**

**Anyway, I love every reader, follower, favorite-er and reviewer I have. Virtual cookies for all of you!**

**Reviews are welcome as always! Saphira loves reviews as much as flattery.**


	15. A Fool's Wisdom Finally Tempered

**Disclaimer: Refer to other chapters!**

**Okay, I was gone for almost a week and I'm sorry for that. I had no work for 3 days due to the weekends and a really big typhoon that hit us. Plus there was no electricity and I have no Internet at home until I pay my overdue bills so I spent a long time reading House of my dad, er I mean House of Hades and Juliet by Anne Fortier (which is really good even if you're no Shakespeare fan!) while listening to rock music. Yessss. So here's another luckluster chapter to make up for it. xD**

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**Chapter 15: A Fool's Wisdom Finally Tempered**

A cool spring breeze was blowing gently as they left their hiding place. They have stocked up on enough food to last them for days in the plains. They were ready and quite eager for another adventure after their success in Helgrind. Of course, real battle was not as glamorous as epics and legends would have them think, but the simple act of saving lives made up for it. They bled nad hurt and nearly died to save people who mattered to them and it felt good.

The joy for their previous success, wonder at Brom's past and excitement for their next adventure was tainted with sadness and worry – for Garrow was to part ways with them once they have reached Gil'ead.

_You worry too much, gentle one,_ scolded Luneria as she patiently waited for Katrina to scramble up her back. _The old one will be fine._

"What makes you think that it won't happen all over again? Or something worse?" Katrina wrapped her arms around her silvery dragon as they took off.

Arya, Firnen, Nasuada and Solaris were waiting for them. The dragons looked as they always did – joyful for the chance to be with their Riders in a beautiful spring morning. Thorn, Saphira and Askanir joined them that day, though they seemed to be busy conversing with their upset Riders. The disappointment that marred their victory lingered in the air, reflecting even in Arya and Nasuada's eyes.

The next few days were subdued, as they made their way to Gil'ead. The routine of three Riders in the sky and three in the ground still continued. Their instruction was more animated with Garrow asking curiously about the nature of the magic that they were tackling that day. The Riders grew stronger in magic. Raising pebbles didn't tax them of too much energy anymore.

Sometimes, when one of the boys took to the skies with their respective dragon, Garrow joined them. He couldn't keep the look of wistful longing from his eyes and mind. She felt happy for the three farmboys. If her father found out about her, he would have ratted them all out to the Empire or worse. She loved him and feared him, but she will harm him if he harms any of her friends and any of the dragons.

It was one of those nights, where the air is neither warm nor cold. They just finished the task of bringing out water from beneath the earth, practicing their control and wording of the Ancient Language. Brom stood behind the six Riders, examining their handiwork. He cupped his hands and drank from the small depression on the earth. "Now we are ready to cross the plains to Gil'ead, and afterwards, the Hadarac Dessert. You have done well. Now you have tempered the fool's wisdom."

"We have passed the tuatha du orothrim?" Arya's eyes flashed in excitement. "Then that means…"

"Yes, you are full Riders, and that your time of learning from me is over. That doesn't mean that we will stop training and sparring though. And I can still tell you a thing or two when the need arises. Like now."

He motioned for the Riders to sit by their dragons. For a while there was only silence, broken only by the crackling fire that Garrow was tending to while he roasted the deer meat. The smell of the cooking dinner invigorated them. Askanir's barbed tongue peeped out as the scent wafted toward him. He looked at the food appreciatively.

"Now, you are going to undertake the second level of the Rider training. You are no longer Apprentice Riders. You are now Novice Riders, and now you will take du gata edoc'sil – The Unconquerable Path. Only once you finish that training will you be complete Riders. But for the six of you, you will continue on to one more set of training after that, in order to fully take on the responsibility of Elder Riders. Only among the elves will you be able to undertake such education but before you proceed to Ellesmera, we shall have to meet with the Varden and get some of you acquainted with them."

_You have grown stronger, gentle one,_ Luneria said happily.

As if cued, the dragons began to hum. It was a strange, rumbling, haunting melody that weaved through the air with the tingle of magic at work. Everyone fell quiet as the humming grew stronger. The Riders' Gedwey Ignasia all glowed in the color of their dragons, and as quickly as it started, it was over.

A sad look passed Brom's eyes. "I only got to finish tuatha du orothrim," he murmured.

With the next days came a new sense of purpose. Hope filtered through them once more. They were getting more and more powerful, and the dragons kept growing. The bond between dragon and Rider grew stronger by the day too. As Gil'ead loomed nearer, doubt and worry wormed its way through their hope. What if Garrow died once he set off back in Carvahall? What if it was all a trap? What if the elf in Gil'ead wasn't the one they were looking for – and Arya's brother was dead?

The first week blurred by with no traces of Enduriel or other members of the Forsworn but still, they kept rotating their watch schedule every night. Their steady travel was slow-paced thanks to Garrow's body being weary and sore from his time in Helgrind. Their slowly growing proximity to Uru'baen sent everyone on edge, and they half-expected an enemy dragon swooping down on them at any moment. They felt hopeful, but they remained vigilant.

They had to be very careful whenever they decided to sneak into dwelling places. There were wanted posters strewn around the different cities and villages for the six Riders and though the images were not that accurate, they still went through disguises just to make sure.

The three cousins' birthdays passed during those days. Though Garrow insisted, they did not take it easy that day with their training. They continued learning the Ancient Language, this time about its proper grammar and wordings. They sparred each night, though Brom excused himself while grumbling that he was getting too old for that.

"I think you're just afraid that we'll bruise you," Eragon said when they were just five days away from Gil'ead.

"Preposterous." Brom stood up and unsheathed Undbitr. "Well then, lad. You want me to spar with you?"

Eragon grinned. "Nay, I was just trying to egg you on."

* * *

They camped out two miles from Gil'ead, wary of enemy Riders and watchmen who might spot them or the dragons. Eragon felt nervous. Brom was to accompany Garrow to an old friend who sends trading caravans to Therinsford, and may assist in helping their uncle return to Carvahall. Hopefully, things were to turn out well. Right after that, they were to sneak into Gil'ead and try to rescue Arya's brother – if he truly was in there.

Brom set off right after dinner with Garrow, promising that he will be back in two hours. They watched him go uneasily, and nobody spoke. The Riders diligently set about, breaking the camp. It was either they had to fight and flee, or charge into Gil'ead.

_It doesn't feel right, letting the old one leave with your uncle unprotected,_ mused Saphira. A big blue eye followed Eragon as he loaded his pack on her saddle.

_I know. Something bad will happen soon. I can feel it._ Eragon leaned on her, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

Hours passed that way, with the Riders speaking with their dragons about the uneasy feeling that they had. They paced around their partners, swords in hand – prepared for an ambush. Silence pervaded the camp, broken only by the dragons' heavy breathing and heavy footfalls. The moon was high in the sky when Saphira nudged everyone's minds.

_Look!_

A lone horseman was fleeing from the city, heading towards their camp. The pale blue cloak and bushy beard told them that it was Brom. He was halfway towards them when Eragon's heart leapt into his throat. Soldiers were running after him. Without a second thought, he mounted Saphira, seeing the others do the same. The dragons rose into the sky with a mighty roar – and the same happened deep within the heart of the city. A massive red dragon – one which was easily as big as a house – flew up and headed straight for Brom.

_Intercept the dragon! I'll help the old man,_ Eragon said.

With a silent acknowledgement, Askanir, Thorn, Luneria and Firnen shot towards the enemy Rider, knowing full well who it was. Morzan, the first and most powerful of the Forsworn, came out to do battle with them.

Nasuada and Solaris followed Eragon and Saphira. The two teams landed in between Brom and the soldiers, who quailed in terror upon seeing the dragons. Some of them held their ground and charged towards them. Eragon slid down Saphira's back, with Nasuada mirroring his movements. They drew their blades and charged with their dragons.

They heard Brom heading towards them, still mounted on his steed. He brandished Undbitr as he attacked the enemy soldiers. There were around fifty or sixty of them, and they were all well-trained for battle. "Have you gone mad? They will kill us!" he snarled.

"We can't just sit by and do nothing," Eragon retorted, dodging a soldier's blade and stopping an arrow with magic.

Above them, they could hear dragons roaring and snarling at each other as they battled. The sheer terror and desperation from the fight above was rolling off the fighters above. Eragon raised his hand and shouted, "vorstengr!" Icicles flew from his hands, stabbing five soldiers. The energy it took wasn't that much but it was enough to slow down the young Rider's fighting.

He heard Nasuada cry out something in the Ancient language, causing a burst of golden fire and light to ignite five more soldiers. As if from a signal, the soldiers began to fall back. Before they could move much though, Solaris landed behind them and roared, sending them running towards an angry, angry Saphira.

Overhead, the massive red dragon swiped the smaller one from the sky, and Thorn crashed into Gil'ead. Askanir swooped down to assist the violet dragon, leaving Firnen, Luneria and their Riders to deal with Morzan. Eragon let out a cry of anger and defiance. With help from a bleeding Saphira and a badly bruised Brom, they tackled the last few soldiers. The strength of the dragons were grossly underestimated, making it easy for even just two of them to get rid of many.

"Now what?" Nasuada asked.

"Morzan." Brom waited patiently while the Riders mounted before taking his place behind Eragon. Then he took his place behind the young Rider.

Saphira and Solaris roared their challenge to the Forsworn's dragon and flew up, taking Thorn and Askanir's place in the battle. Morzan watched them, letting his dragon do the work. His face was secluded by a black helm, and his armor was of the same inky hue. A crimson cloak billowed behind him. He held a wine-red blade in his hand.

Eragon cried out as Saphira maneuvered through the air, trying to gain advantage over the red dragon. It seemed like the monster was only toying with the four smaller dragons who were trying so hard to bite and claw it. From the ground, arrows flew towards them, and it made the battle more difficult.

Murtagh thanked whatever god watched over them as Thorn managed to steady his fall and land on a massive building. Guards stationed around it began to babble in shock and terror. Thorn roared and they ran off. Beside him, Askanir landed with a wild-looking Roran.

"Are you unharmed?" he asked.

"I'm fine." Murtagh glanced at the building beneath them. "We're at the very center of Gil'ead. This must be the prison. Arya's brother should be inside."

"We can't just sneak in."

"Then we'll destroy our way inside." Murtagh patted Thorn's neck, murmuring words of healing to close up his wounds. _My friend, are you ready?_

_ Of course._ Thorn roared, alarming more citizens, and attempted to crush the prison roof.

Luckily, every other defender of the city – including Morzan – were busy with the aerial battle. Roran nudged Askanir and the amethyst dragon began helping Thorn. The two dragons made a sizeable hole in the roof, revealing a corridor.

_Go, go. We will keep watch in here, little ones._ Askanir nudged the two Riders forward.

Drawing their swords, they leapt into the prison. Guards shouted at them as they burst through the corridor. Murtagh held out his free hand. "Slytha!" he cried out, making the nearby enemies curl up and sleep on the cold stone floor.

"Come on." Roran threw the nearest door open. He whistled for Murtagh to come closer. "Look at that."

An unconscious elf lay on a cot, his hair as dark as night. His deep green eyes gazed at the two Riders and spoke something in the Ancient Language. Murtagh didn't understand all of it but the gist was clear. The elf was asking about their identity.

"Eka ai fricai un Shur'tugal." Murtagh put as much conviction as he could in his words. "Your sister – she's one of us. You must come with me if you want to live."

The elf stood, taller than the two boys. He pulled out a vial of something and drank the contents. He seemed weak and shaky but he could support his own weight. He spoke something in his language again.

"Forgive us, we do not understand much of the language. We know only enough to cast spells," admitted Roran. "Now come!"

The elf nodded. Together, the three traversed through the prison. They could hear clanging metal armor everywhere and they tried to randomly open the doors. Soon, they found what seemed to be an armory. The elf cried out and grabbed a random sword and a graceful-looking quiver of arrows that also held a bow. "Now come! We must flee before Morzan or Durza finds us!"

"Morzan is being kept busy by my brother and our friends. Who is this Durza?" Murtagh asked. Just the name sent a chill down his spine.

"A fearsome Shade. Now hurry!" The elf took the lead this time, sword drawn. His forest-green eyes scanned the corridor as he opened a door to a massive banquet hall. The smell of uneaten food hit them in full, and the ravenous-looking elf grabbed two loaves of bread and a tankard of ale. He gave the two Riders a look that fully meant for them not to tell a living soul about it before ravenously eating the food. As he drank the ale in one gulp, he took in his surroundings. "Let's hurry before Durza arrives."

"Forgive me. You're far too late for that." The Shade entered through the other end of the room, his maroon hair and eyes glinting malevolently. He held a pale sword with a thin scratch running down its length. He unclasped his brooch and let his black cloak slide off his lithe, compact body. "I know not how you have found these Riders, but do you wish to test yourselves against me?"

Murtagh sheathed his sword and drew his bow. The roof shook above them. Roran moved forward carefully as something tried to break through the ceiling. Shouts and screams could be heard above them. Roran charged and barely managed to block a blow from the fast, powerful Shade. Bits and pieces of the roof fell over them.

_Don't help, understand?_ Roran narrowed his eyes in concentration, doing is best to injure or kill Durza somehow.

It was evident that Durza was only toying with Roran. He smiled dangerously. "I am surprised that this is all a Rider like you could do. I thought that as an important piece in the Empire's plans, you could at least be half as powerful as Enduriel or Formora."

"You forget one thing," Murtagh said, finally realizing what was happening above them.

Durza gave him a mocking smile. "What might that be?"

The ceiling broke down and a flash of red and violet flickered in the hole. "The dragons, naturally," said Roran.

Murtagh shot an arrow, hitting the Shade's shoulder. Durza snapped it with his fingers, but failed to dodge one which hit him right between the eyes. He howled in agony and began to writhe, his skin turning an ashy gray. Mist formed around him as he screamed and vanished.

Soldiers began to pour around them, weapons drawn. Askanir and Thorn stuck their heads in the hole overhead and roared. The soldiers quailed in fright. The center beam sent a lot of the ceiling crashing down and the dragons tore off the rest of it in anger. They jumped into the banquet hall, destroying the table in the middle. The elf's mouth hung open. "Skulblaka!" he said.

"Yes, yes, now let's go!" Murtagh took his place on Thorn's back and pulled the elf to let him sit behind him as the soldiers began to recover.

The two dragons leapt into the fortress roof as a row of archers began to take their place near bodies of dead watchmen. Above them, the aerial battle was still happening. Bolts of pale blue magic flew out from Brom's hands, countering Morzan's spells.

_We have to help the old one,_ Thorn said in excitement. _Let's go!_ He launched himself upwards, dodging arrows. He roared, and Askanir replied with the same sound.

The dragons shot towards Morzan's red dragon and a powerful force slammed against Murtagh's mind. He quickly threw up his defenses but it was too strong and soon, it was all he could do to stay seated and block out Morzan's mind. He was vaguely aware of the dragons continuing the battle and he saw green bolts of lightning and fire flying out of the elf's hands as Brom uttered a word of power that called up a whirlwind.

Powerful though he was, Morzan was only mortal. The sheer force of the sudden onslaught of magic broke his concentration and he fell off his dragon. The red beast roared and flew down to catch his Rider. Then, as if by magic, the two turned tail and fled.

"What's happening?" yelled Katrina, eyes wide in shock and awe.

_It doesn't matter! Flee!_ Brom's voice rang through the Riders' clearer minds.

The dragons didn't need another cue. They roared and fled into the night, dodging more arrows and doing their best to outpace Morzan. Murtagh crouched low on Thorn's back, doing his best to stay seated as arrows pierced his dragon's wing. _Thorn, hurry, hurry!_ He called out.

They found the horses right where they left them. Brom, Katrina and Roran jumped off their dragons and onto their steeds. Together, they fled into the night.

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**I suck at these kinds of scenes! Bleeeehh. And yes, guest reviewer, I can't wait for Book 5! Heard of some rumors that it will be out next year. Hope it's true, it would make a good 21st birthday gift!**

**For those asking about canon pairings, well, yes. They'll come up soon. Maybe in Ellesmera. None of our six heroes will turn to the Dark Side of the Force since they've got too much Forsworn ready to swoop down on them soon xD but I might put in a foe from the Varden.**

**Review and help our heroes flee! I also appreciate corrections in grammar and spelling, as I've said before. English isn't even my second language T.T**


	16. A Reunion

**Disclaimer: Refer to previous chapters.**

**Again, another fairly short chapter. Aside from a lot of things coming up (_still_ no Internet at home, the city-wide fiesta celebrations causing longer traveling time and busy days, aaaand long jeepney rides to work), this segment is merely filler that doesn't fit in the Hadarac Desert chapters AND Eragon's Crowning Moment of Awesome. So read on, enjoy, and don't forget to leave a review. :)**

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**Chapter 16: A Reunion**

The dragons landed at the very top of a hill, too exhausted and injured to fly farther. Arya was amazed at the dragons' sheer willpower to even reach that distance. They were only half a league away from Gil'ead, and anyone could easily spot them but they needed to rest for a while. Eventually, Brom came into view with Roran and Katrina. The two Riders rushed to their dragons as the person sitting behind Murtagh dismounted from Thorn. The Riders ran their hands through their dragons' injuries, healing them the best way that they could.

Even in the dim light of night, it was unmistakable. His ebony hair fell down to his shoulders, not as lustrous as before – more like a ragged mess. His face was fair but now it was pale, making his deep green eyes stand out more. His deep russet tunic was grimy now, and his white trousers muddied. "Arya Shur'tugal," he said in a high, cool voice. "My sister."

"Faolin!" Arya's face broke into a grin. She slid down Firnen's back and strode towards her brother, throwing her arms around him. "I have missed you."

"And I you. So I assume that you have saved the eggs – and that the others have all found their rightful Riders."

"Yes." Arya turned away from her brother and motioned for the others to move nearer.

The others descended from their dragons while Brom, Roran and Katrina led the horses nearer. They all had triumphant smiles that were mixed with wonder. It was the same when they rescued Garrow and killed the Ra'zac. The two consecutive successes made them feel positive about the future overall.

Faolin nodded to Brom. "We have met before."

"Aye," grunted Brom. He began to slowly sheathe Undbitr. "It was twenty years ago, lad. I'm glad you have a good memory."

"Faolin, these are my friends – the other Riders. This is Nasuada, Rider of Solaris, daughter of Ajihad from the Varden." Arya motioned to each of her friends in turn, introducing them and their dragons.

Faolin greeted all of them with a smile, twisting his hand against his sternum like most elves did in greeting when standing before people that they respected. "It is an honor to meet a Rider – and it is a bigger one to meet all of you at once. Waiting for our last hope has taken a long, long time."

"It is an honor to meet the elven ambassador to the Varden too." Nasuada bowed. "I am not sure about being the last hope but we will do our best to assist."

Arya smiled. "My brother has been the ambassador since he was twenty years old, taking over from my father's faithful friend when he had to take on different responsibilities. But we must talk later, we have to keep going before we are caught. Look." She pointed at Gil'ead, where scores of horsemen were pouring out.

Brom nodded in acknowledgement. He paused for a moment, surveying the scene. "Lord Faolin," he said, handing the reins to Snowfire. "Arya, Murtagh, Katrina, we lead the horses. Eragon, Nasuada, Roran, take the dragons and scan the sky, our pursuers and the land ahead. We will lead from the ground."

Arya put a hand on Firnen's side. _Be careful._

_ I should be the one to tell you that!_ Firnen blinked and stared at the sky with his iridescent eyes. He slowly spread his wings. _I shall see you later._

Arya smiled. _I shall see you later. May the wind always be beneath your wings._

"We should press on." Eragon nodded to everyone as Saphira rose up, her wings thudding slowly as she began to spiral upwards.

Arya watched as the other dragons slowly followed the blue one, then she turned to the others. "What now?"

The usual cheerful light in Brom's eyes was put out. Fear emanated from him, and it was obvious without even trying to get into his mind. He pointed at the soldiers. "We try to outrun them and hope that Morzan or other members of the Forsworn will not appear to bother us."

* * *

Exhaustion began to eat away at him as Roran did his best to stay seated. As if by luck, the soldiers decided to scour Gil'ead without even scanning the rest of their surroundings for the dragons. Askanir's wings strained to keep them aloft as they rode into the night, following the people on the ground while they kept an eye out for trouble all around them.

The night passed by in bleary hours. He was feeling more and more fatigued and he knew that Askanir was too. The others definitely were tired too. The dragons were straining to stay aloft and Saphira almost crashed into Luneria and Solaris five times. The moments blurred by together as their exhaustion began to override their judgement. Even sleeping on the hard ground without setting up camp felt appealing.

_Brom says that you should land now. We have to rest._ Murtagh's voice was piercing in Roran's exhausted state. Dawn was breaking by that time.

_As he wishes. I've been waiting for that,_ Roran replied wearily.

_I've been waiting for that too_, scolded Askanir. They began to descend at the base of a small cliff, where the others were refilling their water. _You should rest, strong one._

The group drank water to soothe their parched throats. As they passed around the food, they told Faolin of their adventures up to that point, due to Arya's prompting. They began to eat as quickly as they could. The sky was lighter when they turned in for the night, soothing their tired muscles. Before drifting off, Roran wondered about the Forsworn, Morzan, and if they could defeat him someday.

_You fret too much, Roran. A Rider and a dragon are as strong as they believe they are._ Askanir snorted. _One day, we can conquer the world if we so wished, but of course it would not be right. It doesn't mean that we can't. Now rest._

Roran leaned against Askanir. "How will we travel now that the Empire is on high alert and we've got them running at our heels?"

"And has the Empire extracted any important information from any of us?" Arya asked, giving her brother a pointed look.

Faolin stopped healing his numerous bruises and wounds. He raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Durza the Shade tried to break me and get into my mind. He branded my skin and had me beaten. He drugged me and even made me drink that poison, Skilna Bragh only to have me drink the antidote at night – and I stole some for emergencies. I took it when Murtagh and Roran crashed into my cell."

"That's good to hear," agreed Eragon. He began tracing letters with his fingers. "What now?"

Saphira curled up beside him. _Faolin pointy-ears, have you learned anything of importance during your time of captivity?_

"Urgals are working for the Shade – which in turn works for the King himself. They were to bring me to that fool in a week, so I thank you for rescuing me in the nick of time," Faolin said quietly. "I believe that they were sent to terrorize his human subjects but I do not know why."

_Because he's evil,_ hissed Askanir.

"And people can't even run to the Varden. With the Urgals, he will have enough people to patrol the borders and kill people who are trying to flee," Katrina mused. "They can keep the people in their places because of their own fears."

"But where is this blasted king sending the Urgals?" Nasuada pressed, narrowing her gold eyes.

_She's right. There have been rumors that have been going around in Carvahall and Teirm, which if put together means that the Urgals are heading south-east, _mused Solaris. She curled up beside Nasuada and closed her eyes.

"It could be because he's amassing his own private army of Urgals." Murtagh's voice came out devoid of emotion, like he was merely stating the pleasant weather. His eyes were dead, but it didn't mask his fear enough. "He might be planning to let them live in the Hadarac Desert, let them build their own city."

"A lot of things are possible," Brom agreed. "But the wisest course of action will be to flee to the Varden for now. We will be relatively safe there. We will have to go through the Hadarac Desert and the Beor Mountains first, of course."

That night, they slept for two hours before rising to flee again. They took turns sleeping in their saddles while three others led the horses. Above, the dragons kept watch over them and alerted them of their pursuers. They veered east, towards the Hadarac Desert. They will handle the matter of crossing it when they get there.

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**Again, forgive me for the infernally short chapter. I have a long weekend coming up starting tomorrow (Saturday here) and will probably do a lot of writing, including for my original stuff.**

**Do leave a review and tell me about what you might be expecting in the following chapters! I might get some ideas and could even deny or confirm some of them. :)**


	17. Out of the Frying Pan

**Refer to previous chapters if disclaimers are still needed.**

**I'm really really really sorry for being out of action for five days since Friday, when I used to update every three, uploading only a really short chapter upon resurfacing. Aside from an epic writer's block, I was away from my desktop and laptop for two days. Last Saturday, I skipped work to prepare and attend my friend's debut party (special 18th birthday celebrations for more affluent kids in my country, which is a big deal). Last Sunday, my parents, my brother and I helped my grandmother and cousin buy some stuff in the mall for the upcoming all saint's day on November 1, which people in my country spend in the cemetery. Kind of our version of the Day of the Dead, I think?**

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**Chapter 17: Out of the Frying Pan**

Exhausted from a long day of taking detours and narrowly escaping pursuers, nobody was in a good temper once they stopped for a rest that night. Everyone was nodding off as they forced themselves to eat. The dragons curled up beside their Riders, eyes half-closed.

"What are we to do now?" Katrina asked. Her whole body ached and she knew that the others were in no better shape.

"I don't know. What I do know is that we can't keep up this pace for far longer," moaned Nasuada. She leaned against Solaris. "We're not going any faster and the soldiers will catch up to us soon. We can't take to the skies – the horses will be left behind and killed, and if the dragons do fly lower to make it easier for us then the soldiers will detect them faster."

"Do you think we could seek sanctuary with your people?" Eragon asked Faolin and Arya.

Faolin shook his head. "No, we have to warn the Varden," he said quietly. "I think – I think the Urgals are headed for them. The Varden lies to the southeast, past the Hadarac. Doesn't it feel like too much of a coincidence? Something is warding off communication via scrying too." he asked in a soft voice. "Besides, we will have to pass by Gil'ead and the surrounding area which will be teeming with soldiers now that they know of us. There might be one or two of the Forsworn patrolling the area too."

"The Urgals are far behind us and not much people will want to pursue us through the desert without taking up days of preparation. We will be fairly safe in that route," Brom said quietly. "Surda is out of the way since we'll have to cross most of Alagaesia to reach it, which is double difficult now. "

"What if the Forsworn try to chase us?" Eragon asked, trying to bite a piece of bread and missing it. "Even if we outpace the other soldiers, they could overtake us in a few more days."

"They will have to leave the soldiers behind that way, which can give us a very slim advantage – one which might not exist at all, but it also leaves them at a disadvantage. They need those soldiers to make sure that they will have a big advantage over us."

"The desert is outside the Empire," Faolin said. "What do you know of it?"

"It's hot, dry, and does not have much people living in it," offered Murtagh.

"Aside from the blistering sun, everything is out to kill you," muttered Nasuada. "Scorpions, angry and venomous snakes, inedible, terribly poisonous plants – and that's just the start of it. There are barely any settlements to seek sanctuary in during the hot mornings. It's vast and it takes longer to cross than the great plains."

Brom nodded and brought out his map. "This is the desert. On the way to the Varden, this is what we need to take." He traced a finger from their rough location, through the desert and to the Beor Mountains to its south. "The Empire ends where the desert begins on account of its vastness. It was all under one rule before but Galbatorix isn't exactly known for his ruling capabilities even with his damned Forsworn."

"We have some supplies here, but it won't last us for long," Arya said worriedly. She gave them all an intense look. "It's barely enough to keep us going 'till we get out of the desert but water is another matter. Faolin?"

The elven ambassador shook his head. "No, we have always brought enough water when passing the Hadarac."

Roran shrugged. "We could convert sand to water, right?"

"Not if you value your life. It takes too much energy to create even just enough to fill a small cup," Brom snapped.

Eragon drew lines on the ground and then looked up. "Look," he said, pointing at the moisture on the ground.

"How could this help us? Water from the earth here may be possible but what about in the desert?" Katrina asked. Of course, her curiosity was still there and along with the others, they peered closer to the ground. "We will probably have to dig for weeks to find it."

_It doesn't need to be there, little ones,_ Saphira said smugly. _Watch._

Eragon made a small indentation in the ground by scooping off some soil. He murmured something, and water began to fill it. "I just summoned water from the ground. See? With our powers combined, we can do it. We will survive the desert."

They began to sip from the water, taking turns in summoning more until even the dragons managed to drink their fill. It made them even more exhausted but at least they weren't thirsty. They slept somewhat soundly that night, forgetting the terror of the day and the coming days before them, being replaced instead by quiet awe and respect for Eragon.

The group woke up before dawn, weary and still sleepy. They had to, though, as it would do them good to gain more distance between their pursuer and theirselves. Katrina and Roran took to the skies but everyone else remained on the ground. The sky was a murky gray as Luneria and Askanir followed the other dragons, scanning the immediate area for dangers. It was cold, and the extra layers of cloaks that they wore were a good addition.

The Riders and dragons connected their minds to each other like the old days. Eragon and Murtagh's nervous excitement was clear through their link.

_I always did like races_, joked Murtagh.

_And now we're in for our lives!_ Eragon let out an excited whoop as the horses began to gallop towards the hazy desert ahead.

* * *

They sped through the landscape, letting themselves go through their fastest pace without killing either horse or dragon. They stopped twice for food and to switch who was to ride on the ground or their dragon. Their original pursuers were soon left far behind, but with new settlements ahead, they had new soldiers to dodge. The cloak of dusk began to settle around them as nightfall grew nearer. Hills dotted with cacti unfurled before them as their surroundings darkened. Arya could barely feel her legs as their pace began to slow.

"Bullridge is ahead," Brom said, pointing right in front of them to a dark outline of ramshackle houses. "I'm sure that there are soldiers on the watch. We have to slip past it now, while it's dark."

The pale yellow lanterns of Bullridge would have been comforting to anyone else, but not to the weary travelers. The group on the ground muffled their blades and dismounted from their horses while those traveling with the dragons gave the area a wide berth. All over the town, soldiers patrolled the area around merrily burning watchfires. The group led their horses on foot and led them on a wide detour around the town.

Only once they have put Bullridge way behind them have they let themselves relax even a little bit. The day was starting to break, staining the eastern sky with a pale pink light and warming the land. They decided to momentarily stop at the crest of the hill, with the Ramr River – which doubled back on itself and curved west – was both to their left and right.

"I can't believe that we've covered sixteen leagues in just a day," Arya found herself murmuring breathlessly.

"Aye, now we can find some place where we can rest without disturbance." Eragon wearily glanced at Brom and Faolin, who did their best not to show their exhaustion.

Brom nodded. He began to lead them to some clustered juniper trees, where the dragons desceneded as blankets were being laid on the ground. The old Rider brought out Undbitr and checked his reflection on its blade. "Well then, you get your well-deserved rest now. I will take first watch."

They were still worn out and quite drowsy by the time night began to fall but a sense of determination filled everyone. This time, Faolin took the lead, using his magic to lead him to a good trail ahead. Eating was done atop their mounts of choice. Arya longed to be up in the sky with Firnen but she was to have her turn by midnight so she persevered.

Using the cover of the wide hills, they wound their way around the area, blatantly avoiding the crest of the hills as it makes them more visible. The dragons flew low, close to the ground, like massive snakes. Hours passed that way, switching around mounts to give the horses a lighter load. The sky slowly began to lighten as the morning star, Aiedail, peeked out. A steep, brush-covered bank greeted them, along with roaring water.

"I think – I think that's the Ramr River," Katrina croaked. Her silvery eyes widened in awe.

"How are we going to ford it?" Roran asked her nervously.

Faolin smiled – it was the way he did when he was up to a little mischief. "We will sing to it," he said. "No need to ford. Arya, I know you haven't completed your training in this art yet but you can speak our language and it is enough. Brom, have you been…"

"Seeing as my master was an elf, he made sure to teach me," Brom told him dryly. "I am not one to break into song but it will be done." He dismounted his horse and followed Faolin to the edge of the river.

Arya dismounted and gave the reins to Eragon, who gave her a baffled look. "I will explain later," she told him.

* * *

Eragon watched the two elves stand beside Brom. The dragons hovered nearby, rumbling with unrestrained curiosity. Everyone moved closer to see what was happening as Faolin wrote some strange glyphs on the ground.

_Maybe that is the way that elves write their words. You should ask them to teach you._ Saphira's eyes gleamed as he took in the strange scene.

As if on cue, Faolin and Arya began to sing softly in high, clear voices. Brom began to blend in with his gruff voice. They were singing in the Ancient Language, and at first it seemed like nothing was happening.

Solaris spread her wings and flew across the river, skimming over the white foam and the pale mist before returning to the ground once more. _The river is over half a mile wide in this part. This is a bad place to cross. This is where the river bends back and is at its widest._

_Hush, I think the elves know what they are doing. The two-legs and their horses will cross without our help,_ snapped Luneria.

A small portion of the earth began to move as Brom and the elves continued with their song. The earth slowly moved to form a slender but sturdy bridge. Silence reigned, except for the soft, haunting melody and the rush of the river. Magic was in the air, in the very music that was causing a land bridge to rise.

"Look," Murtagh said in terror, pointing behind them.

From just a league away, soldiers were marching towards them, torches lit. They were descending a bluff and were headed straight for the river. Saphira and Firnen growled but they were visibly tense. Eragon swore.

"We're done here." Brom's eyes widened as he saw the approaching soldiers. "Hurry, hurry!"

They all dismounted and slowly led their horses over the small bridge. They were careful not to slip and fall into the river. Above them, the dragons skimmed over the river, keeping a watchful eye on their progress and glancing at the soldiers which were steadily closing the distance between them. Eragon was at the very back of the bridge. He was stepping on a dangerously slippery and small ground, and he was afraid of falling to his death.

_Don't be ridiculous,_ Saphira chided him. _You're a Rider. Now hurry._

Eragon was halfway through the bridge when he looked back and saw that the soldiers were steadily closing the distance more and more. Though his brother did it more frequently, he let out one long curse under his breath, making Roran glance at him in surprise. He shrugged. "They're near," he said in a deadened voice.

Despite their panicked states, crossing the river was still slow work. By the time Eragon and Snowfire stepped on the other side of the river, the soldiers were a mile away. He looked back once more as everyone else mounted on either horses or their partner dragon. "We have to destroy the bridge."

"What are you doing?" Murtagh yelled. "We have to hurry!"

"Let him," Brom said.

Eragon held out his hand and summoned the power within him. It welled up and flooded through his very being. "Jierda!" The bridge crumbled and fell to the raging river beneath it. Fully exhausted, he barely managed to clamber up Saphira's back when he passed out.

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**Yes, dangers await them in the following chapters! But what? Why? Read on to find out.**

**Oh, and I hope some questions have been answered in this chapter. Oh, and I do read my reviewers' fics and occassionally review, you guys are awesome! :)  
**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated as always.**


	18. Into the Fire

**Disclaimer? Refer to previous chapters.**

**A whopping thirteen pages are laid out before you, ready to be devoured. To be honest, this was supposed to be longer but as the lazy bum that I am, I'm putting the Varden's introduction in the next chapter.**

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**Chapter 18: Into the Fire**

While Eragon slept on, riding his dragon, they stumbled onwards. Murtagh kept glancing at Saphira to make sure that his brother didn't fall off. He was riding atop Thorn, who was nimbly slithering beside the saphire dragoness. The ground beneath them grew steadily softer, shifting from regular soil to sand. The sun rose high above them when they halted. Looking back, the Ramr River was a hazy, silver outline.

"Welcome to the Hadarac Desert, home to the Wandering Tribes – one of which my parents are actually members." Nasuada threw up her arms wearily. A brilliant smile masked the weariness in her beautiful face. "I grew up far from them so I really am not that knowledgeable of their culture but they are still family."

"Maybe we shall meet them," Brom said. "I personally know Sagabato-no Inapashunna Fadawar."

"He is my mother's brother, I believe. I am not sure that I will be accepted."

"We shall see." Arya put a hand to her blade, a small smile on her face.

Like ripples in an ocean of sand, a variety of dunes rose from the expanse of the desert. The trees looked dehydrated and grew on small, scattered patches of the ground. Growing up as a farmboy, Murtagh knew that crops will not flourish here. He could spot the purple outline of crags in the distance. The entire place was devoid of sentient life – aside from the occasional birds gliding along the soft west wind.

"What will we feed the horses while we're here?" Murtagh found himself asking. He had to slur his words, since the dry, hot air was stinging his throat.

Brom pointed to the crags. "Grass grows around that area. It's not as soft or lush as the ones in the plains but it's sufficient for them. We should rest before we move on. There's no use driving ourselves to death from exhaustion."

They made a small camp in the shadow of two big dunes. Murtagh settled on the sand with Thorn curled up beside him. The ruby dragon spread his wings over them. _This place is truly glorious. I could fly over here for years and years. It feels like dragons were made for the desert. We have mountains to roost in, challenges by camouflaged prey and the energizing heat! We should return once everything is done._

_Well, if you say so, then. We've covered thirty-five leagues in just four days. We should rest now since we'll have to cover more leagues in the coming days._Murtagh closed his eyes and curled up to sleep.

It was a brief rest, just enough to energize them for another hard day of travel. Murtagh was saddling his horse, Coaldust, when Eragon stirred. He looked weary, despite sleeping the longest. There were bags under his eyes. "I'm starving," he said, rubbing his belly. Behind him, Saphira snorted. "Cut that out, my head's pounding."

"That was a pretty impressive display of magic power, little brother. Of course it will sap you of your energy." Murtagh smiled and handed him a piece of bread and some cheese. "Can't find any trace of pursuing soldiers, but we can't relax. We've barely escaped from two of the Forsworn and the Empire must have heard of our exploits by now."

"I know." Eragon took a small swig from his waterskin as he finished his quick meal and began saddling Snowfire. "The Ramr seems like a good way to lose pursuers though."

_We can't put faith in luck or hope right now,_ growled Thorn. The two startled young Riders jumped up in surprise. _Someone could be on our trail right now. We must continue to the Varden. I think that something important will happen once you are there._

_He speaks true,_ agreed Saphira. _Luck is for prey._

The desert heat stung at their skin, as if it found them and considered them to be formidable foes. Their unusually long shadows felt jarring. By sunset, they left behind the dunes and headed straight for the stone bluffs that they spotted that morning. Nobody was in the mood to talk, and nobody even had the nerve to ask about the distance they covered. Only the dragons seemed to be happy in the desert.

The dragons dug a deep hole in the sand and the Riders – along with Faolin – converged upon it. They threw their power together to summon water from deep in the ground. They refilled their water skins, let the horses drink, and knelt down to drink to their fill too. They had to refill it a few more times especially when the dragons themselves drank. They splashed some water on their faces and arms before letting it seep back into the earth.

_I remember when we all struggled to even lift a pebble,_ mused Murtagh as he put a hand on Thorn's scaly neck. _Now holding water to the surface is no more than a little challenge._

When they woke up in the early morning, everyone was still quite cranky, even calm-looking Faolin. Arya and Eragon even bickered over breakfast already. Brom grumbled as he announced that they might stay for two or three mor e days in the desert on their way to the Beors. Nobody was pleased by the news.

They set off once more, angling towards the hazy smudges which Brom assured them to be the Beors, whose size made them visible even though they were still far, far off. They trudged on, stopping by only for a few meals. Dunes stood around them, silent watchers in the arid place. The distant smudges of the Beors weren't just hazy purple lumps anymore.

They were monstrous.

The mountains were forest-covered mounds with white tips that at first looked like the sky above the mountains have lost its beautiful blue hue. The vast whiteness extended to the edge of the horizeon, and it took Murtagh a few moments to realize what it meant – the small hills were merely the bases of massive mountains. Aside from the thick forest at the lower areas, the mountains were capped with ice and frost. The narrow, jagged mountains stretched high up to the sky, even if the young Rider craned his neck to peer at it.

Eragon was staring at them with the same awestruck expression that his twin had. "They don't have an end!" he said softly.

"Knew that the Beors were high, but I thought the hearsays were mere exaggerations." Murtagh rubbed his eyes. "Seems like the reports from the occasional traveler in Morn's tavern weren't just some fanciful embellishments."

_These mountains are making me feel small,_ whined Thorn as he chased Askanir and Roran up a dune. _I feel like a hatchling again._ He yelped as Arya and Firnen chased after him gleefully.

"Do you think we're nearing the edge of the desert? We've been here only for two days and yet we're seeing the Beors already," Eragon said quickly. "Saphira thinks that they might still be around fifty leagues away."

"What if entire nations are hiding in there? They could also help us," Murtagh yelled in excitement as Eragon pointed out the mountains to the others.

"I knew that the Beors were monstrous, but I never expected them to be that big." Katrina's eyes widened, taking in the sight of the massive mountains. "I hope the animals in there aren't gigantic to compensate."

"Oh, don't worry. You worry too much." Nasuada smiled calmly. "None of them will dare attack an entire pack of humans and horses who are backed up by dragons. And yes, we truly are close."

Brom grunted as he realized that he estimated their travel too highly. "Aye, and the Forsworn will have trouble looking for us there. It's a small consolation, and we should still keep up our pace. I won't feel any safer until we're in the Varden – though that place itself isn't the right definition of safe for any of you."

"We shall talk about that later," scolded Faolin. He wiped sweat off his brow. "For now, we must focus on reaching the mountains. Reaching the mountains is our most important goal, and we will be a little safer from the Empire there."

As the day wore on, it didn't seem like they budged enough to get nearer to the Beor mountains. The landscape around them changed though. The sand slowly receded, replaced by cream colored dirt. Patches of plants were dotted around the area, along with furrows where floods used to occur. A cool breeze told them that they were out of the scorching desert.

That night, they camped out in the open space, amidst waving grass where gazelles bounded – and they merely a league away from the foothills of the nearest mountains. After a short review in the Ancient Language, courtesy of Faolin, they turned in. The older elf provided first watch that night, assuring them that he was finally strong enough to ward off little dangers while they rested. It was more than enough for everyone. Letting Thorn's wing cover them both, Murtagh drifted off to sleep.

* * *

It felt like she had just drifted off when Nasuada felt someone shake her awake. Murtagh crouched over her, his brown eyes flashing red even in the dull grayness of the late hours. Nasuada sat up in surprise, almost hitting his forehead with hers. "What?" she hissed.

"Pack up. We have to leave." Murtagh pointed at the others who were preparing groggily too.

"What's happening?" Nasuada rubbed her eyes and rolled her blankets, hefting her pack. Beside her, Solaris stirred.

Murtagh pointed to the west, where a league away, a column of figures were marching east. There were hundreds of them, all bringing weapons and faint torches. One of them rode a black chariot with a crimson standard. Smoky dust trailed them. "Faolin says that they're Urgals," Murtagh said quickly, helping Nasuada roll up her blankets and put them in her pack.

_The Empire may not have found us, but if news of the Urgals working for Galbatorix is true…_ Solaris' massive form shuddered.

"Aye, even if they haven't heard of us yet, they won't let us pass. Especially since we've got dragons." Nasuada straightened up and put a hand on Solaris' neck. She trained her golden eyes on Murtagh's reddish ones. "Besides, they might have been sent to attack the Varden. We will have to warn them."

They saddled their horses while Brom bellowed instructions to the dragons while Katrina and Eragon joined their partners. They rode into the night, taking turns sleeping while the rest rode on, leading the horses. They soon outdistanced the Urgals for the time being. The exhausted horses kept up their pace relentlessly. Their horses might not survive and even if they did, the Urgals might still be able to catch up. Faolin, who was riding on Snowfire, murmured words of encouragement to his horse.

Before them, the Beors loomed and cast massive shadows that kept them cool. Behind them, the Hadarac Desert was merely a white patch at their horizon. The dragons deposited Eragon and Katrina to their horses and soared away for a quick hunt as they wore on. The hour before the dragons were on their way back was spent in relative silence, slowing down their pace to avoid straining Snowfire – who carried both Eragon and Faolin. Once they reached a pond, they stopped for a drink.

While the horses drank their fill, Nasuada leaned against a tree and cast her mind out to contact Solaris, who had her belly full of wild deer and clear pond water. _I'm tired._

_I know. Once we return to your home, you can rest once more. I am not sure that your family will be pleased with you, though._ Solaris let out a coughing chuckle. _Though I am sure that they will be amazed at the way that you have grown from a harmless leader's daughter to a great Rider._

Nasuada saw a lone horseman standing on the hill before them. Behind him were twenty others. None of them moved, but they all held weapons. She caught Roran's eye.

The boy already had his sword in hand. _Are they of the Varden?_

_ 're leagues away from them._ Nasuada took a deep, calming breath. _And even though we have fine war horses, we can't outrun those. We're all tired._

_They could have something important to say,_ mused Roran. He didn't seem sure though.

Nasuada shrugged. She took out her sword too as the others followed Roran's lead. _To be honest, I am not sure of that either._

Brom looked at them with sharp eyes. "Tell your dragons to hurry back but don't let them show themselves," he barked.

"I can't get into their minds," murmured Faolin.

_Solaris, people found us. Stay nearby but don't show yourself,_ Nasuada called out.

_Magic is sometimes better than skill. Remember that._ Solaris growled angrily.

"Do you think they will be afraid enough to back off if they see that we're Riders?" Eragon asked, knees shaking.

"I am not so sure of that," Faolin said. "You humans are strange people who know not when to be rightfully afraid. But we shall have to kill if we have to. I know you are averse to that but we may have to do it."

The man at the lead, riding atop a sorrel horse, signalled with his mase. Horsemen approached the wary group. The men brandished javelins, whooping as some of them trained arrows upon the small group. With a swirl of their leader's mace, the men yelled happily. They circled the group and smiled menacingly. Nasuada readied her arsenal of magic. She tried to push away her fear. Standing tall and proud, she brandished her own weapon. She was starting to wonder if they were facing slavers.

The leader led his horse and examined the tense group, raising bushy brown eyebrows. "Oh, so we don't find just dregs this time! Grieg will be pleased if they don't get shot," he said. "Now as for you, please drop your weapons. You don't have to become living quivers." His men laughed as he put a hand under Katrina's chin. "Lovely. And those exotic swords will fetch high prices too. Only the king and his Riders own blades of that quality."

"Who are you?" Brom said angrily. "What do you want from us? We are free men roaming in free lands. Why should you have the right to stop us?"

"Of course I have every right to do that," the man said happily. He bared his rotten teeth to them and let go of Katrina. Instead, he withdrew to stand before his men. "You should know your place as slaves and address your master properly. That is, unless you want us to beat you."

_Slavers!_ Roran's terror washed over the six Riders.

"It would be most wise for you to throw down your swords and surrender," the lead slaver said affably.

"Look, Torkenbrand!" One of them pointed at Arya, then Faolin. "Those two are elves."

"How much are those worth?" another asked.

"Mountains of fortunes at the least," Torkenbrand said, smiling at the elves with bright eyes. "The Empire will pay a lot for these two dearies."

Faolin glared at them, but otherwise betrayed no other reflection. Arya spat as the man tried to touch her face. "Don't you dare." The slavers hollered at her statement and pounded on each other's back happily.

As if on cue, the dragons landed before the slavers with mighty roars. They stood beside their Riders, who held out their hands. They summoned flames the color of their dragons, and the slavers cowered. Rolling along with it, Katrina snarled at them. "We are Riders, and you must flee now if you wish to see the sun rise once more." She must have taken their touches seriously, since anger radiated from the normally demure person.

The men babbled incoherrently and ran off in screams. In their haste, one of them struck Torkenbrand with a javelin, knocking the fool off his mount. The men left their stunned leader behind, at the mercy of six Riders, their master, and an elf. Even though his temple was bleeding, Torkenbrand was on his knees.

Murtagh stepped forward with hatred in his eyes. Before anyone could stop him, he held out his hand and murmured, "Slytha."

Torkenbrand's eyes closed, and he slumped on the ground. For a moment, nobody moved. And then, Faolin knelt by him and said, "Waise heill," before murmuring a soft song in the Ancient Language.

"Why is your brother singing in a time like this?" Nasuada asked Arya.

The lone elven Rider blinked. "He's using the song to slowly erase Torkenbrand's recollection of us. With a song, he can control the energy that flows out from him with his spell. At least the Urgals will not find information of us if they run into him."

Faolin stood up and stopped singing. "I am not sure if I succeeded, but he is only one man. But it is one man less from those who know of us." He clambered to Coaldust as Murtagh and Arya mounted their dragons.

"We must hurry before the Urgals catch up." Brom mounted Shesnir and waited for the others to settle upon their horses' back.

With that encounter fresh from their minds, they continued on their journey. They burned off the leagues in a speed that must have been deemed impossible by others. Veering south, they passed in a valley between two massive mountains, stretching up like arms raised to the heavens. Each tips of those mountains were at least a day's ride apart. In a valley that seemed like it was made for the giants, that distance seemed shorter.

Nasuada offered to take the first watch that night and since he wasn't tired yet, Murtagh sat with her by the fire. They sat in companionable silence for a while, with only the small, crackling fire making any sound.

After a moment, Murtagh glanced at her. "I'm wondering if I did the right thing, knocking him out instead of killing him. It would have been merciful. The Urgals will have found him by now and they are not exactly nice people."

"We are not executioners. We fight if we must but we will not kill someone defenseless – even if he wanted to sell us into slavery mere moments before." Nasuada leaned against Solaris, rubbing her snout.

Murtagh fell quiet as he conversed with Thorn for a moment. Then Thorn's neck craned towards the girl. _I agree with you, though I would be glad to tear him apart for harming any of you._

Nasuada smiled. "Thank you, Thorn."

_I agree with him,_offered Solaris. _We will harm anyone who tries to harm you, but we won't do it unless we need to. Or else, we might become no better than them._

Murtagh smiled gently. "Thank you. All of you. I guess I can sleep soundly now. Good night."

The dragons bade him a good night by putting their snouts against his forehead. It was something they routinely did for all Riders every night. Nasuada put a hand against his arm. "A good night to you too, Murtagh. You did the right thing."

* * *

Katrina flew with Luneria the following morning. Behind her were the other dragons, Murtagh sitting astride Thorn. She didn't know what was wrong, but he had been quiet ever since he put the slaver to sleep. A shudder ran through her body as she remembered what transpired the previous day. _I can't believe that we almost became slaves._

_Do you think that we would let anything happen to any of you? We won't. We're all a big family here, gentle one._ Luneria let out a puff of smoky breath. She snapped up a passing brown bird. _If they tried to capture you, I would have eaten them_.

"Katrina!" Murtagh called out from behind her. "Look!"

Katrina followed his gaze. Below, she could see the others riding on with their exhausted horses. A long way behind the route they took was a patch of gray and brown. The Urgals following them the previous day were camped by a streambed. "But they're on foot! How could they have managed to gain on us so quickly?"

The six dragons grumbled as they talked to each other then began to descend. _I don't think they saw us,_ offered Luneria.

_Their chieftain or whatever else is leading them must be forcing them to excert a lot._ Katrina squirmed as the dragons angled towards their friends. _ I hope they die from exhaustion._

They landed right in front of the group, with Brom's horse buckling in surprise. Their mentor merely grunted as he calmed the steed down. "What have you seen up there? Is something the matter?"

"The Urgals are overtaking us," Katrina said tensely as she hung on to Luneria. The dragons were all shifting on their feet, itching for a fight.

"We still have five more days to go – three at this speed. This pace will let the Urgals catch us too." Faolin frowned, deep in thought. "I already used a little magic to hinder them with rocks and the like but it doesn't seem to be enough."

"Our only chance will be to keep going – no sleeping, no stopping." Brom frowned. "But we've gone so long without proper rest and sleep, and our horses are close to dropping dead. Taking to the skies and leaving the horses behind feels wrong. Besides, the dragons could go only so far with two people and various luggage. We have no choice."

"We have to reach the Varden soon. I think that the Urgals are faster on foot than on horseback," Murtagh said quietly.

"It does not matter. We have to go now." Brom frowned and motioned for the other Riders to mount their dragons. "It will be faster that way."

Determined to outrun the Urgals, the dragons rose with a mighty roar and flew close to the ground. They did their best but by nightfall, the Urgals managed to shorten their distance to a third of what it was before. The group slept in turns on their dragons, letting their partners keep the pace. On the ground, Brom dozed while Faolin kept the lead relentlessly, not appearing to be tired. They headed for the eastern leg of the Beors, slowly angling towards the foothills. In their weary state, midnight passed without their knowledge.

The Urgals were far behind by morning. They spend most of it navigating around a broad mountain. There was a valley tucked well into its far side, restricted and easy to pass by without a second glance. A river flowed out of it, looping around the land.

_That, my young Riders, is the Beartooth River and beyond that? The Varden._ Even Brom's thoughts were weary. _That is where we need to go._

Katrina looked behind her. The Urgals were a little more than a league away. _What do we do?_ She let Brom and the other Riders read her thoughts.

_We can slip through that valley without being seen,_ said Brom. _They've followed us easily so far but that will be worth a try._

The scenery changed as they neared the valley. Knotted trees and their branches hung around, blocking their sight of Faolin and Brom for a moment. It felt like the trees were hostile, and Katrina felt herself shuddering.

_Those trees are very old. Older than both of us._ Luneria looked uneasy.

_I don't think they're the friendly kind of oldness,_ replied Katrina.

The lack of space as the forest grew denser forced the dragons to take off once more. They followed the Beartooth River, ignoring the shadows that a massive peak caused by blocking out the sun. The valley may have looked smaller due to the massive mountains, but it was actually quite spacious too. There were some waterfalls in some distance, and the gray sky was just a small ribbon above them. A cold fog pervaded around them, enhancing the scent of wild strawberries. The dragons landed in a quiet glade with a muted rush of wind and wing.

"The Varden are hidden beyond here," Faolin said softly. "You beter take the skies once more, better watch the Urgals."

"Well, you heard him." Roran patted Asknair's head, a grim look on his face. "I hope we reach the Varden before nightfall."

Luneria tried to snap up a dove as it flew past them. She missed and groaned. _Do you think we could get a better view of the Ur gals if we go higher?_

_I can, but I'm not sure about you. It's very cold up there._ Luneria glanced at a flock of black and green birds, red markings upon their wings. _You might want to ask one of them to come with you._

_ Well, if you say so._ Katrina caught Arya's eye. "Hey, do you think we could try to go higher and see the Urgals better? I mean, it might not be as clear as if we're close to the ground but I think it might work."

"No, it's not going to work. We can't breathe if we go higher. I heard my mother telling a friend about an old Rider who tried it and almost died." Arya shrugged, then smiled. "It was a good idea though, if we knew how to breathe up there. It's a pity, really. Can you imagine what it would feel like to stand on the summit of even just one of those mountains?"

"It would make us feel powerful," Nasuada said. "Powerful for a few moments, before we plummet to our deaths."

"Oh, don't be silly," chided Roran. He glanced wistfully at the mountaintops. "Let's not forget that knowledge. It might come in useful if we fight another Rider."

_I was going to say that I hope it never happens but with the Forsworn egg-breakers, we will eventually have to._ Askanir moved his head a little. _We will win._

Drifting from one mountain to the next, one of Saphira jerked around and roared. _Everyone! Look!_

_ We have to do something,_ Luneria told her, glancing at the line of Urgals pouring into the valley entrance. _How can they run and walk at such speeds that make them faster than your horses? Is it some kind of magic?_

_No. Look._ Thorn bared his teeth. He growled in frustration. _Little Riders, look at the size of those Urgals! They're bigger and more muscular than the ones we have have met before. Their chest and shoulders will stand taller than a grown man. Whatever land they may have come from, it must be fierce enough to produce monsters like that._

"We have to do something. They'll catch Brom and Faolin long before we reach the Varden," Murtagh snapped.

"We could try hampering them," Eragon said. "We could do something with the mist."

_Gath un reisa du rakir. Let's fly low and cast the spell together,_ Arya said, quickly explaining her plans.

The dragons began to lower themselves as much as they dared before the Riders uttered the spell. The mist began to swirl, draining energy from the Riders. It turned into a thick sheet of white, covering the Urgals. The Urgals stopped for a moment before pushing forward, ignoring the mist.

The Riders released the spell, exhausted and disappointed. The fog of white collapsed on the muddy ground. "We haven't hindered them at all," murmured Eragon. "What else can we do?"

_ Tell Brom and Faolin about what we have learned – that the Urgals we are facing are larger,_ suggested Luneria.

"Luneria's right. We should have done that in the first place. Well, let's go." Roran and Askanir led the descent. They found Brom and Faolin letting the horses drink from a small stream.

"Is something the matter?" Brom asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes. The Urgals we've found are larger than what we've seen before." Murtagh rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. He glared at the stream.

Brom cursed. He slapped the horses' rear and leapt to one of them. He settled down on the saddle and waited for Faolin to ride his steed too. "Then that means that they're of the Kull. This is much worse."

"Kull?" Nasuada asked.

"The Kull are the most elite among the Urgals. They stand no less than eight feet tall and have no use for horses because none can carry their weight." Faolin shook his head gracefully. His green eyes seemed to darken into black. "Even after marching for days with no sleep, they can still march into battle. They never leave their caves except when waging war. They must e expecting a great slaughter."

"We have to stay ahead of them somehow," Katrina said, trying hard not to betray her weariness.

"They have enough strength and determination to support their massive numbers. I hope the Varden still has some guards stationed near the entrance." Brom pursed his lips grimly and stared at the sky. "Even with our skill and the dragons, we have a slim chance of surviving an encounter with Kull. Eat while you can. You need your strength."

* * *

_We can't let the Kull attack Brom and Faolin._ Arya leaned against Firnen, trying to keep despair at bay. _What should we do?_

_We can't defeat them, even with the twelve of us,_ Firnen mused softly. _But if we attack first, we could gain an advantage._

Arya smiled. "We could drop rocks to scatter them," she proposed to the others.

"Let's hope that their skulls aren't thick enough to protect them," Eragon grunted. For some reason, he looked and sounded like Brom. Their master taught him how to be properly grumpy.

The dragons descended to the Beartooth River and picked up boulders, patiently waiting for their Riders to pick up big rocks. They glided above the Urgals and dropped the rocks. Their missiles caused chaos, scattering Urgals and knocking out several. Though the Urgals managed to gain more distance everytime the group had to pick up more rocks, but they hindered the Urgals enough for them not to catch up on Brom and Faolin.

With the darkness came a sudden plunge in temperature. The cold covered the land and trees with a small layer of frost. The place was eerily quiet, though scurrying shadows betrayed night animals waking from their slumber. The fullness of the night cast an inky blanket over their surroundings, and even the dragons couldn't find the Urgals within the forest. The moon was hours away from rising to provide them with a silver beacon.

Ahead, rough mountain edges closed off the end of the valley. "That's the head of the valley," Murtagh called out. "We should alert Brom and Faolin."

_I know not what good that would do either of them,_ Firnen said with a snort. _But we might as well as do it._

They landed by the river, and the Riders jumped off their dragons. While stretching their cramped legs, the dragons submerged themselves into the river to conceal themselves. After a while, pounding horse hooves heralded the arrival of Faolin and Brom.

"Dropping rocks on the Kull? Ambitious," huffed Brom. "Did it work?"

"No, it only slowed them down," Arya said, glancing at her brother. Sadly, she couldn't glean anything from him. She grabbed his horse's reins and swung herself onto the saddle, positioning herself in front of him. "The Urgals might be upon us soon." They began to ride into the night while the dragons swam through the Beartooth as a horn rang out behind them.

The sound of a waterfall grew louder as they followed the trail in silence, the horse taking on an exhausted trot. _I am worried,_ said Firnen. _I can't tell how far they are._

Soon, the forest abruptly ended. They stood in a beach to the left of the Beartooth River's mouth. A deep lake filled the mouth of the valley, restricting their passage. In the faint starlight, the river seemed to glow eerily. The dragons were standing at its very edge, sparkling faintly. There was only a thin strip of land surrounding the lake, and it was quite narrow that someone could fall off. Across from them, a massive waterfall tumbled down.

"The lake Kostha-merna. We're near," said Brom. He led them to the right side of the lake, his face grim.

They were halfway to the waterfall when Murtagh pointed to a spot behind them. "The Urgals!"

Massive figures emerged from the trees, spilling into the banks of Kostha-merna. One of them gestured to the half-visible dragons, speaking something in a guttural language. They split up, covering the two sides of the lakeshore to close off the group's only escape route. The only good thing was that the narrow shore made sure that the Kull could only walk in single file.

"Run! Run!" yelled Faolin.

The horses whinnied and took off, but the dragons let out a roar of challenge and headed towards the Urgals.

"No! Come back!" Katrina roared, pulling her blade from its sheath.

The dragons attacked the alarmed Urgals, taking them by surprise. Unable to maneuver properly in the narrow bank, ten of the Urgals fell within a minute, missing some body parts and with chunks of torn flesh. Firnen let out a puff of smoke as he attacked another of the undeterred Urgals. Some of the monsters began shooting black arrows that bounced off the dragons' scales, leaving only bruises. Firnen roared as one of them found his wings. He submerged completely into the water, followed by the others.

The Urgals warily eyed the rippling lake, mumbling in their strange language. Then, the water erupted as the dragons leapt out, their jaws clamping on the Kulls that were about to plunge spears into them. One of them managed to bloody Saphira's nose, and the she-dragon roared in pain. Luneria snapped at one Kull's legs in retaliation. The joint efforts of the dragons were enough to keep one side of the Urgal lines at bay, but unable to hold them for a very long time. Meanwhile, the other column was steadily heading towards the trapped Riders and their allies.

The group led the horses on foot, holding each other for support. Arya's hands were shaking, one clamped on Eragon's shoulder and the other on Faolin's waist. The noise of the waterfall thundered as they steadily neared it. Four yards from it, the beach widened, giving them more space to step on. The injured dragons withdrawed, one by one, and the Urgals on their side of the beach surged forward.

Brom strode towards the mountainside with a rock in hand as the Urgals were just a few hundred feet away. He used the rock to pound on the mountain as he yelled, "Ai varden abr du Shur'tugals gata vanta!"

The dragons leapt out of the icy lake, dousing everyone with water. The horses began to panic, and one of them almost backpedaled into Faolin until he calmed it with some words from the Ancient Language.

_Look out!_ Firnen's voice was so powerful that everyone heard it.

Looking behind her, Arya saw the lead Urgal dashing towards them, spear raised. He was a massive specimen, his chest towering over even Faolin. Its limbs were as thick as tree trunks. Without thinking, Brom hurled a knife at it, hitting it in the chest point-first.

Chaos erupted as fighting broke out. "Jierda theirra kalfis!" Katrina screamed. She drew her sword with a fierce look upon her gentle face.

With a crunch, twenty Urgals bent down and cried out in pain. Jagged pieces of white bone protruded from their legs. The other Urgals surged forward without pause. Arrows flew towards them but hit the cliff instead. Arrows hit some of the dragons' wings. In the following chaose, Eragon slipped from Arya's grip as he moved forward in an attempt to help Saphira. Before he could move much though, he tripped on a rock and plunged into the lake.

"Eragon, you idiot!" Murtagh yelled, trying to head towards the spot where his brother fell.

* * *

**For the reviewer asking about the debut party, Wikipedia has an article about the Philippine debut, and it's pretty descriptive. ;)  
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**I love you guys. Your feedback and suggestions are really helping me, though a particularly pushy one freaks me out. (sorry!)**

**I always appreciate reviews, especially helpful ones! We'll be meeting the Varden really soon. Maybe in a couple of days or so?**


	19. The Might of the Varden

**Seriously, you reached this chapter and still looking for a disclaimer? XD**

**Another SHOOOORT chapter. *sighs* Well, it serves as an introduction to the Varden and those that might become allies. Of course, we also have foes mixed in – in the form of the scumbag Twins, whom I seriously DESPISE.**

* * *

**Chapter 19: The Might of the Varden**

Eragon couldn't breathe. Being near the waterfalls, simply falling into the lake sent him careening into the depths of the lake. The steady pressure of the cascading water above prevented him from raising his head out of the lake to ease the pain in his airless lungs. He wasn't a swimmer and in his situation, he began to panic, flailing around. He could hear nothing but the endless rush of the water. He couldn't do anything else, weighed down by his clothes and sword.

A hand grasped the back of his soggy tunic firmly and dragged him out of the river. The lake seemed to part like a hot knife through butter as his savior moved through it. Eragon could only hope that it was one of his companions and not an Urgal. As they stumbled into the beach, the young Rider began to shiver.

The renewed sounds of a clash between fighters could finally be heard. The Urgals on the other side of the shore were falling from arrows that flew from some cracks that lined the cliff. A lot of dead Urgals littered both the shore and the lake. Both columns of Urgals were facing warriors who seemed to have appeared miraculously from where the lake met the mountain. The hidden archers were keeping the Kull at bay, preventing them from nearing Eragon.

"Those fools! A moment more and you would have gotten killed," a gruff voice said. It wasn't Brom or any of the others. It was a man no taller than his elbow – a dwarf. He was busy wringing out water from his braided brown beard. His chain mail was cut off at the shoulders to reveal his muscular arms, with a war ax hanging from his belt. He wore an oxhide cap, bound with iron and depicting the symbol of a hammer. "Barzul. I wish I could join them."

Eragon drew Kylskada and looked for the others. A pair of massive, stone front doors opened into the cliff, revealing a long tunnel burrowed deep into the place. Flameless lamps glowed in the passageway, filling it with a pale blue light. The others stood there. Brom glared at a tall, bald and beardless man who wore robes of purple and gold. He was clutching a dagger in his shaking hand. Was someone restraining him with magic? The dragons were standing around the man, growling.

Brom strode towards the strange man, glaring. "You know better than not to let us in."

The man glared at them. "As you wish. But if you put one toe on the line, Shur'tugal, then I will kill these children."

Faolin stepped forward as Brom cringed, and he gave the man an impressive glare. "I am ambassador Faolin of the house Drottning, and I pray that you do not step out of the line or Ajihad shall hear of it."

"Father will definitely hear of it," Nasuada said casually, her eyes darting to the sword on her hip. She gave the man a predatory smile before waving to the dwarf who rescued Eragon. "Hello, Orik. It's been quite a while."

"A while? A while? Barzul! Your father and brother almost ran themselves down in exhaustion because they worried about you," the dwarf snapped. "But 'tis good to see you in good health, Nasuada. And that mighty dragon of yours is looking good too."

The group headed into the tunnel, followed by some warriors. Will they be safe there, or will they be facing more dangers? Eragon voiced out his worries to Saphira. _The dwarf seems good enough, but that man makes me feel quite we be truly safe in the Varden?_

_The elves trust them, and Nasuada came from them too. None of them meant you or your friends any harm._ Saphira glanced at the bald man. _Though that two-legs makes me uneasy too._

"This way," the bald man snapped. He turned to the right, disappearing through an arched doorway.

The warriors gave the Riders and the dragons curious glances before some of them left with the horses. Brom led the group through the doorway and down a narrow corridor, following the strange bald man. The warriors murmured to each other and followed the group out of sheer curiosity. Nasuada kept her head down, as if deep in thought, passing through a sculpture of an animal with thick quills. The went two times to the left and into a big, empty room barely large enough for the dragons to move around.

The room was constructed from white marble, polished to reflect everything in a ghostly manner. A set of the flameless lanterns illuminated the room, casting an emerald glow this time. The bald man glared at the group, as if they were vermin that must be dealt with soon. "You must not speak of anything until you have been tested. Even the four of you," he said, giving Brom, Nasuada and the elves a disdainful look. "It is the rule, and we must all abide by it. Remove your weapons and slide them to me."

_He's scum,_ Nasuada told the group as they unfastened their swords. _I have no idea as to why father would put up with this man._

The group removed their weapons and slid them to the man. "Remove your defenses and submit them to me. No one may enter Farthen Dur without being tested and I wish to know if you had any… unpleasant contact with Galbatorix and why there are Kull banging at our door." The man's black, close-set eyes gave off a more unpleasant thought than meeting Urgals did, for some reason. "Now, prepare to be examined."

"You better not harm any of them, Egraz Carn, or Ajihad and the king will have your head." The dwarf who rescued Eragon gathered the weapons carefully.

"You." The bald man pointed to Eragon and motioned for him to step forward. "Do not resist if you do not wish to get hurt." He gave the dwarf a pointed look before facing the Rider once more. He bowed his head and chanted something under his breath.

Eragon staggered backwards, groaning in pain and surprise. A mind probe made its way into his mind. Panic set in and he quickly set up his mental barriers. _Don't do that!_ Saphira's consciousness joined his.

The dragoness helped him lower his barrier, letting him sense the bald man's disappointment and exposing him to the somehow predatory probe, its battering in the young Rider's mind intensifying. Somehow it felt foul and unwholesome – something was wrong with it. Pain came in waves and Eragon's eyes began to tear up. _Does he want me to resist him?_

_ Let us give him what he wants and conceal everything else. The strength of his mind will falter against mine. I am already shielding our conversation to him._ Saphira did her best to supress the pain but couldn't do it fully.

Hunting for information, the probe dug its way into Eragon's mind. It felt like someone was hammering a nail to his skull. The man already found his childhood memories and hungrily sifted through it – like a treasure hunter searching for gold in an ancient ruin. _Saphira!_ Eragon began to panic. _He doesn't need those! Get him out of there!_

_ No, it would put you in danger!_ Saphira paused. _I can only conceal things before he touches upon them so tell me quickly about what you want to stay hidden!_

Quickly, Eragon scanned his mind, ignoring the pain inflicted as the bald man still sifted through his memories of Carvahall. He hid everything that Brom taught him, and some information he gleaned from Nasuada and the elves. He also asked her to conceal everything about Angela's fortunetelling and Solembum's strange advice.

Once all of the important information was concealed from the bald man, all Eragon could do was to wait for the painful interrogation to finish. He kept his body rigid, setting his jaw to avoid crying out loud. He realized that the man was lingering on the random bits of information like the name of his mother to prolong the agony. He prolonged the examination on the young Rider's battles with the Urgals, the Ra'zac, Enduriel, Morzan and of course the Shade, Durza. Once he analyzed every bit of Eragon's adventures, he withdrew from his mind.

Eragon's knees wobbled, and he collapsed. Arms grabbed him and lowered him gently to the cool floor. "Barzul, Egraz Carn! You went too far, the boy isn't strong enough for this."

"He lives. Is that not what matters?" the bald man asked in his silky voice.

"No. Ajihad will hear of this," Brom snapped. "Harm one more of these young ones and he will do away with you."

"Well now that you know that he is to be trusted – as is obvious as he is traveling with Brom and apparently even saved our egg courier." Orik crossed his arms and glared at the bald man. "Continue with the testing if you must, but do not harm them more than is necessary. Or I will remove your head here and now."

The bald man stood before Murtagh, testing him. Eragon's brother had a look of deep concentration and pain, as if he was also blocking out important memories from the man. Roran, Katrina, Arya then Nasuada followed, all showing signs of discomfort and outright pain as the man intruded upon their minds. They didn't seem to be subjected to the man's torturous methods – perhaps due to Orik's threat.

Faolin showed no sign of discomfort but when Brom's turn came, he seemed to have resisted the bald man altogether. Angry and frustrated, the bald man dug his fingers into the old Rider's throat. With a growl, Orik grabbed his war ax. "Ilf carnz orodum," he muttered before raising his voice. "That is enough! We have known that they mean no harm. Three are allies and one is the daughter of Ajihad himself. You should know better than that."

The bald man reddened. "How dare you, knurlan? How many times must you question my leadership? You've already opened the gates without asking for my permission and now you're being a treacherous, insolent son of a –!"

"That's because you would have left them die! Six Riders, one of them Nasuada herself, Faolin and even Brom?" Orik's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "You can't torture them for information, especially as you have found one of them trustworthy and two of them are well-known throughout the Varden. Ajihad and my king won't sanction it."

"Fool, would you allow them to enter unchallenged? Would you put everything we have worked hard for at risk?"

"This is Brom we are talking about. Brom and a handful of allies who are here to assist us." Orik's eyes flashed dangerously, and the man's composure seemed to have caved in somewhat. "What do you fear?"

The bald man's dark brows joined. "As you wish. Leave now." He looked at the group of warriors still standing by the doorway, then to the group of newcomers. "Even though you are highly… regarded… in this organization, it is still important for you to be tested. Since you have not, thanks to the meddling little man here, you will stay in this place for the night. All of you." The man stiffened and closed his eyes, clenching his fingers – as if he was deep in silent communication. When his eyes opened, he stalked out of the room, following the other warriors of the Varden.

"Thank you," Brom croaked.

"It was nothing, old friend." Orik grunted. He glanced at Eragon for a few seconds. "I'll make sure that they bring you food." Cursing under his breath, he left the room and bolted the door behind him.

Eragon sat up, aching all over. His eyelids began to feel heavy as Saphira settled beside him. _We have to be careful. It seems like we have enemies within the Varden as well._ He began to heal Saphira's numerous wounds.

* * *

Roran sagged against the wall, weary from the enforced march through the desert and the mountains. "I can't believe that we're here – and that we survived the Urgals." He glanced at Askanir's injured form and began uttering words of power to heal them. "Who was that man?"

"One of the nameless Twins." Faolin walked around, helping the Riders heal their dragons. "They were young when Brom last walked these halls."

"I never knew them that much." Brom sat on the cold floor, arms crossed. "Never expected that one to be quite unpleasant."

"Who is this Ajihad and the king that the fellow Orik was talking about?" Roran couldn't recall a lot of details during the past few hours due to the bald man's meddling, and he didn't like it one bit.

To his surprise, it was Nasuada who answered. "Ajihad is my father – the current leader of the Varden. The king is King Hrothgar himself, leader of the dwarves. Each of them will be laying claim to the six of us – especially Arya. They will ensure that we will be loyal to all three races. People will strive to influence us here, as a Rider's support is important in their personal interests."

"That's why you must be careful with your decisions and how to accept offers from people both in the Varden and among my own," Faolin continued. "Being loyal to the leaders of the three races might seem like a good thing but be careful not to go too far with it, understand?"

The door opened and eight bowls were pushed inside, followed by four loaves of bread and six sizeable hunks of meat. With a bitter chuckle, Brom tossed the meat to the dragons and distributed the bowls of onion stew and bread. After their meal, Askanir curled up beside his Rider with a contented hum. Once Roran lay next to him, the amethyst dragon extended a wing to cover both of them. _Do you think that Father is fine?_

_I know not, strong one. What I do know is that your sire is smarter and stronger than he lets on. He will make it back to your village. _Askanir closed his eyes. _Goodnight, Roran. It's not good for you to worry about things that you cannot control._

A small smile touched upon Roran's lips as he slept. Things will turn out fine somehow.

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**Next chapter will be longer, I promise, especially since it will deal with Tronjheim, which I seriously love except for the fact that it's underground since the recent earthquakes here are making me uneasy. The previous chapter was too drawn out in the original book for my tastes, but I loved it too. Glad you liked my version which isn't that different either. And for the curious, I originally wanted to round this out to 25 chapters, but it depends on how long the next segments will be and how the ending to this will play out. It might be longer or shorter.  
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**Thank you for the constant reviews, especially those who never miss a chapter :3 Sending virtual cookies and hot chocolate for you guys!**

**Keep the reviews coming!**


	20. Tronjheim and Its Splendor

**Do you still need a disclaimer? :)))**

**A six-page long chapter merely describing Tronjheim for the most part? I seriously love the place, to be honest. This chapter would have gone on longer with me uploading it at around 11pm tonight (it's roughly 5:30pm as we speak) but it feels like I'm coming down with the flu, which is bad bad bad as it's All Saints' Day tomorrow and we will be in the cemetery for most of the day.**

**So anyway, read on and enjoy. I do hope the right guys read the rather lengthy note I will tack on at the bottom of this chapter xD**

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**Chapter 20: Tronjheim and Its Splendor**

Thanks to Askanir's loud growl, Roran was jolted awake. The dragon still had his eyes closed, his hindlegs kicking idly. He growled again, and his Rider realized that he was dreaming. Roran carefully slid out from under his wing to see Brom, Arya and Faolin already awake. "Good morning. How long have you been awake?"

"Awhile. You could have slept through a thunderstorm," Brom grunted. "The only thing I hate about this place is that time is sometimes difficult to tell."

"Nobody has come to see us yet," Arya said nervously.

With a loud groan, Eragon crawled out from under Saphira's wing. He still looked exhausted as he stumbled to stand beside his cousin. He rubbed his belly with another groan. "Oh, I've never felt so well-rested for days. It would have been better with a bed but this is enough."

"Best to wake up the others now," Brom said, tensing up. "I think the Varden will come calling for us soon."

The dragons have been rumbling and grumbling sleepily for minutes already, looking for food. They must have touched everyone's minds already in their search for breakfast. Murtagh accidentally punched Roran's nose when he was awakened. Waking up Nasuada almost resulted in a catfight between Arya and her. Katrina merely mumbled vaguely about breakfast when Eragon tried to shake her awake.

"Behold, the mighty Riders and their fearsome dragons, the Varden's last hope against the Black King and his Forsworn." Brom watched their antics with his arms crossed. "I can already feel our foes trembling. Their early morning routine will make for a fearsome tale."

"Yes, I believe that the elves will be pleased to sing the songs of their mighty deeds, in the early morning following their arrival in the Varden," agreed Faolin. He watched Roran and Murtagh engage in a brief scuffle before their dragons pulled them apart. "Riders who have rested well are truly a force to fear in Alagaesia."

Once the Riders have sorted themselves, the dragons remained irritable and still complained of their hunger to everyone. Two dozen warriors entered, flanked by Orik and the bald man. The nearest warrior gulped, misinterpreting the growls of the dragons as one of threat instead of complaint. The bald man gave everyone a look of disdain and declared, "Ajihad, our leader, summons you. If you must, eat as we march."

"Where are the horses? And our weapons?" Arya sounded outraged as she spoke.

"You are not yet permitted to be armed." The man ignored Brom's glares.

Roran glanced at their mentor. _You're a former Rider! And the Varden respects you. Why don't you do something about this man?_

_ No, of course not. _Brom let out a huff of breath as they filed out of the room, urged by the warriors. _I do not have a high position anymore, though I am still a well-known member. And I don't want to upset the natural order of this organization. Aside from that, it lets me study him more. I do not trust him one bit._

They returned to the corridor from the previous night, passing the statue of the quilled creature. They returned to the first tunnel which led from the side of the mountain, where the bald man was waiting with a visibly displeased Orik, who was holding the reins of the seven horses.

"Riders on your horses," the bald man said. "Brom, Ambassador Faolin, you will be walking on foot until I tell the Riders to mount their dragons, wherein you can take your horse of choice."

Roran mounted Stormdance, remembering the first leg of their journey where he bought the horse and threatened to feed him to the Urgals. It felt like ten lifetimes ago. He can't believe that it was just a few months ago when he started the journey that took them through half the Empire, outran its soldiers, battled and killed the Ra'zac, escaped two of the Forsworn, rode through the Hadarac and escaped from the Urgals in the Beors. He was far from the simple farmboy who lived with his father and twin cousins whom he loved as his brothers.

_You are now a true Rider_, Askanir said in pride. _Courage, strong one._

Roran smiled faintly as he took his place behind Bron and Faolin. _Stay close, I might need you._

_ Always._

The bald man examined their line, and nodded subtly. The warriors divided their group in half and surrounded them, casting nervous looks at the dragons. The bald man gestured to Orik and headed the group, with the dwarf right behind him. They began to move forward. The perfectly-sculpted tunnel echoed the sound of the horse's hooves. Looking around, Roran marveled at the architecture and the closed doors that blended seamlessly with it.

The longer they went on, the more nervous Roran was about meeting Ajihad. Though he was the father of their friend, he was also the leader of the Varden. He also wondered about Orik and the part that the dwarves play in this organization – and if there are other elves in there. Even Askanir was clueless.

They traversed the tunnel for an hour, following the bald man relentlessly. Nobody spoke and made unnecessary voices, except a clearly irritable Brom. They must have gone a league, probably going deeper into the mountain. Finally, there was a soft white glow ahead of them, steadily going brighter as they wore on.

Marble pillars now stood in rows along the walls, laced with gems corresponding with the colors of the six dragons. A white set of the strange lanterns were placed in between these pillars, making the gems and the dragons gleam. Threads of gold and silver lined the base of the pillars and carved raven heads arched over the ceiling. Massive black doors was adorned with a massive silver seven-pointed crown, spanning both doors.

"Riders on your dragons. Brom, Ambassador, take your mounts. Do not attempt to escape or do anything suspicious. People will be watching so you must know your place." The bald man emphasized the last five words with malicious glee as he gave Brom and Faolin an unpleasant smile.

Roran clambered up to Askanir's saddle. _I think they intend to show us off to the rest of the Varden,_ the dragon sniffed.

_I think so too. I wish I was armed. _Roran tightened the straps around his legs and caught Katrina's eye.

The girl's pale face was set with determination. Many people once assumed that the butcher's sweet and demure daughter will merely be a beautiful trophy wife. They should have seen her now as a powerful Rider.

"I know you're anxious, but are you ready?" Orik asked.

Once everyone murmured their assent, the bald man, Orik and the warriors moved to the side, while Brom and Faolin were at the flank of the group giving the Riders the lead. Shoulder to shoulder in the immense tunnel, the dragons began to hum.

"Walk to the doors and once they open, just follow the path slowly. Let everyone see you," the bald man said.

Together, the dragons strode towards the door in a measured pace. Roran took a deep breath to steady himself. Wedged between the fidgety Eragon and the outwardly confident Murtagh, he felt even more nervous. The dancing flecks of light cast by the reflective dragon scales made him feel dazed.

The doors before them swung outward with hidden joints. Rays of sunlight began to filter into the tunnel, momentarily blinding him. When he could see again, the sight unfolding before him was unbelievable.

They were inside a massive volcanic crater.

With walls narrowing to a small crater opening high above them, the top could easily be a dozen miles away from them. Light fell from the ragged opening, bathing everything in the center in pale white light while leaving everything else in darkness. Icicles hung around them in different gargantuan sizes, lining above them up to the hazy blue far side of the area. Not even a dragon could fly to that height. There was a cobblestone path unfolded before them, leading to the center of the crater – right at the base of a glittering white mountain which was barely a tenth the height of the crater. It was a little higher than a mile.

"No Rider has set sight upon this marvel for a hundred years," Orik rumbled. "This airy peak under which we stand is Farthen Dur – Our Father in the tongue of mine people. It was discovered thousands of years ago by Korgan, father of our race while tunneling for gold. The greatest monument to the achievements of our race lies before you. Behold Tronjheim, the city-mountain hewn from the purest marble."

_A city?_ Askanir blinked and his head edged forward in interest.

That was when Roran noticed the crowd assembled before them. Packed together haphazardly, people – both humans and dwarves – awaited them. Thousands of them were watching them with expectant eyes, even those who recognized Nasuada. Eyes and faces focused on the six young Riders who held so much promises of hope. Nobody spoke or moved. By instinct, the six Riders and their dragons joined minds.

_What should we do?_ Murtagh asked.

_Smile? Wave? Anything! _Even composed Arya had no idea about what they should do.

Children in ragged clothing, scarred, hardy-looking men and women dressed like warriors, and housewives in their homespun clothing watched them. Dwarves watched them warily, rubbing their beards in discomfort. Together, the Riders removed their gloves and raised their hands in a small wave, their gedwey ignasia shimmering in the dim light. Nobody responded, and Roran felt himself blush in embarrassment.

In the midst of the crowd, someone let out a cheer. After another long, uncomfortable pause, the resounding shouts of joy and awe crashed upon the group.

"Very good," the bald man said. "Start walking."

The dragons proudly arched their necks and began to move slowly down the path. Saphira glanced at either side of the crowd and let out a puff of smoke. Though the crowd shrank back momentarily, they once again proceeded to cheer. There were more dwarves than humans and many of them looked at the Riders resentfully. Some turned away and walked off.

The humans looked worn out but tough. Men were armed, and many of the women were too. There were a few children and even some babies who stared at Eragon, eyes wide. They showed signs of experiencing hardship and were ready to fight those who wished them harm.

_They found the perfect hiding place, _noted Eragon. _No dragon could fly over Farthen Dur's walls and those hidden doors can't be broken into by any army._

The crowd began to follow the Riders along Farthen Dur. They rode on, the three cousins – brothers – growing increasingly uncomfortable. The white marble of Tronjheim loomed nearer, like liquid starlight poured into place. Round, elaborate windows dotted the mountain, lit by a colored lanter. Before them stood two wooden doors supporting an arched vault. Beside them were two golden griffins.

At the base of Tronjheim, the bald man motioned for them to continue to the gate, which had walls lined with red jasper pillars. Between them were sculptures of strange creatures. There was a low, heavy rumbles as hidden chains opened the massive doors, revealing a four-story-high passageway. It had archways in the top three levels, leading deeper into the city. People cluttered these archways, watching the procession. Stout doors covered the archways on the lowest level. Tapestries depicting heroes and battles lined the walls.

People began to cheer as the dragons stepped into the hall and walked on. The dwarves watched either sullenly or curiously but did not join in the cheering as Nasuada raised her hand. The girl bit her lip and put it down again. They passed through the mile-long hall, which ended in an arch supported by onyx pillars. Gigantic yellow zircons capped them, with glittering beams of gold piercing them.

_That's a work of art,_Askanir pointed out. _Tronjheim, I believe, is almost as brilliant as a flock of dragons under the brilliant sunlight._

Roran chuckled softly. _Nothing beats the brilliance of the dragons. I thought only females were vain._

Askanir began to hum. _Then you have been proven wrong._

They entered a circular room rising high, to the peak of the city-mountain itself narrowing until it tapered to a point. There were arches on the wall again, corresponding to each level of Tronjheim. The floor was made of glossy carnelian, where a hammer is etched, girdled by seven pentacles.

The group stood in the nexus of four hallways, including the one they came from. The two halls to his sides led underground, decorated with tall arches and identical sets of stairs. Above him was a massive pink star sapphire the color of dawn. It was twenty yars ago and probably the same thickness too. It was carved to resemble a massive, realistic rose in full bloom. There were lanterns along its edge, casting pale light with a light blush upon the hall. The star in the jewel gleamed like a massive eye.

_I have never seen anything as majestic as that – save for dragons,_ commented Roran. _I doubt that anything in the Empire can rival this beauty._

_ Seeing little of the Empire, I will have to trust your word,_replied Askanir.

The bald man approached the Riders, trying to appear as unassuming as he could. "You must go on foot from here," he said, ignoring the scattered boos from the crowd as they were left behind.

Dwarves took away the horses while the newcomers went on foot. They went to the right-hand hallway, the Riders standing close to their dragons. They walked for several hundreds of feet before entering a smaller corridor. Guards remained close in the cramped space. After taking four sharp turns, they stood before an old, blackened cedar door. The bald man ushered everyone but the guards inside.

_Goodness,_ Murtagh told everyone in a terrified tone.

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**Okay, CP said that the Isidar Mithrim is a dawn _red _sapphire, but a red sapphire is a ruby and dawn red is pink, so I described it as pink above. Sorry about that for the guys who might be wondering and even noticed that detail from the book. On the other hand, the big battle is nearing, and Eragon won't be slaying Durza alone, the way he teamed up with Arya to curbstomp Varaug in Brisingr. Who do you think should help him out?**

**Hopefully, rightful (initial) thrashing of the Twins will be delivered by Brom late into this book, with our heroic twins (E and M) finishing the job next book. YESSSS, I AM COVERING THE 4 BOOKS OF THE CYCLE! *evil laugh* Hope I answered your questions.**

**And luckily, the earthquake and the numerous (NUMEROUS!) aftershocks were way south. The newly discovered faultline made such a statement and sadly damaged the delicious sounding Chocolate Hills, killed both people and endangered species (the cute little tarsiers). Old, historic Spanish-era churches were also damaged. Badly. So for those wondering, I'm fine right now, landlocked in a mountainous northern region of the country where wild jeepneys are out to get you.**

**So, um, to the more important part, which is kind of scaring me because it might rub off on some of you the wrong way. :( I do understand that we all have our favorite characters in the series (I adore E and M), and would love to see them treated specially or uniquely in fics, maybe even following some original events in the Cycle which singled them out. The six Riders will be experiencing some similar things that will give them equal fighting chances against the Forsworn (think Agaeti Blodhren) and a lot of things will be shared by them (being claimed by all 3 races for example) but many events will still single them out.(Eragon is the only one to be injured by Durza, Roran becoming the Stronghammer) I'd love to make them all as unique as possible, but some requests to do so are either too implausible or just won't work out with the plot I have in mind. I still seriously appreciate your suggestions and comments, all of you, but I have to apologize if some of them won't make it here. :(**

**I hope you still stay with me, we're nearing the end of the first part of our tale. :)**


	21. Great Leaders

**Seriously, does anyone still need a disclaimer? XD**

**Soooo, a fairly longer chapter. And I wrote that while down with the flu! Hah! So, we meet Ajihad and see more of Farthen Dur. Did I do this chapter any justice?**

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**Chapter 21: Great Leaders**

Nasuada knew the place very well. It was a two-story study filled with rows of cedar bookshelves crammed with books of various subjects. The white lanterns scattered around the room, the spiral staircase leading to the smal balcony with two tables and four seats, and the oval rug on the stone floor were all familiar to her. So was the man standing behind the desk at the far end of the room and the bald man standing by the staircase.

The other Twin must have terrified Murtagh enough. Seeing another of them standing by the staircase must have been too much. Nasuada shook her head as they walked on to meet the leader of the Varden.

Her father was known for shaving his head bald, and for trimming his beard meticulously. His body was still powerful from fighting, which Nasuada knew was what her brother strived for. He dressed in his finest red vest and a purple shirt.

"Greetings, young Riders, mighty dragons and old friends. For those who do not know me, I am Ajihad, leader of the Varden." He smiled tiredly. "Please, seat yourselves, be comfortable. It seems like we have much to talk of today."

The usual seats scattered around the study were positioned in a small semicircle around Ajihad. Nasuada sat between Arya and Brom, who were both. The Twins, reunited, stood by the stairs and watched the group with their disdainful eyes. Nasuada tensed up as her father examined the group quietly.

Ajihad gave her a quizzical look and cleared his throat. "I want everyone but my guests out of this room. Now."

The twins departed with a bow but Orik remained. "Sir, there is still the matter of my insubordination," he said quietly.

"Very well, wait for my call outside. Don't let the Twins get away either, I am not done with some important matters that regard them." Ajihad waited for the dwarf to depart before continuing. "He is a good man. To be honest, I cannot say the same for the nameless Twins. I do not trust them one bit but they are important because of their spellcasting skills."

"They're capable," Faolin agreed. "But unpleasant."

"And I'm glad that you resisted them. They might glean some information that they could use to further their ambitions," continued Ajihad. "That is something I don't wish to happen. There's a line between trusting them to accomplish certain things and outright trusting them. Now, my daughter, I hope you could explain why you have run away."

Nasuada's throat constricted. She couldn't trace any disappointment or anger within her father, but she was still afraid. She could feel Solaris standing protectively behind her. _Go on, sister. Your sire loves you, no matter what._

"I convinced Arya to ask her guards to bring us to Brom. Because letting my mighty dragon grow without knowing more of what we have inherited from the Riders of the old is not something I wish to happen to her. I wished to learn more about being a Shur'tugal by seeking out my master because I know that none of your messages will reach him – because there is a spy among the Varden who is sabotaging your messages." Nasuada looked away. "I'm deeply sorry for not telling you, but I'm not sorry for running away. Now we know what it means to be dragon and Rider – and I have met true friends. Fellow Riders."

Ajihad considered her words with a nod. "I know not about how your Order works, daughter of mine, but I shall respect your former decision. I believe that your timely training will be of use in the coming days. Brom, my old friend, now I would appreciate if you tell us about everything that has transpired since Carvahall. Once I am satisfied, I wish to hear more about your encounter with Durza, ambassador. If possible, my friends from Carvahall, you could also tell me about how you have found your dragons." His eyes roamed to Luneria. "It seems like Ismira was right."

"My mother?" Katrina asked. "Where is she?"

"Currently in Surda, working with King Orrin regarding some important matters. So, you are her daughter? I wonder… Ah, never mind, I will listen now."

Hours passed before Ajihad heard everything he wished to. "I am glad that all of your sacrifices have been worth it. You are all here, safe from harm. But it seems like danger is looming in the horizon once more. Kulls have come banging into our front doors, and it seems like the mad king has made a pact with the Urgals. It might only be a matter of time before they attempt to attack us once more. The Varden will be hard-pressed to survive. The Shade must have something to do with it. I met Durza before and I managed to get away by scratching his blade. If only that arrow hit him in the heart when you shot him… Things may be easier."

"But what do you expect of us?" Eragon asked.

"You are enigmas. Quandaries. All six of you and your noble dragons – nobody knows what you want, even you, my daughter. Everyone knows what the Varden wants, what the Urgals and Galbatorix want. Everyone knows the Forsworn and their wishes to support the mad king. It makes you dangerous to even Galbatorix and the Forsworn. They're afraid of you. Nobody knows about what you're planning to do."

"Does the Varden fear us?" This time, it was Nasuada who asked the question. "I understand why you refused to take us whenever it is time to touch the eggs, as a Rider's life is dangerous but, Father, do you and the Varden fear us?"

"No." It was Faolin who spoke. "You are the hope of the Varden. You are only to be feared if the hope is proven false. Your position is unusual in nature, and it means that many forces are trying to influence you – to further serve their purposes. It's what you must be wary of."

"Even my influence is beginning to hover over you," Ajihad said sadly. "Ambassador, your spell missed Brom by a small frame of distance, but this mistake is truly a gift."

"When I found those eggs twenty years ago, everyone was so interested in it," Brom said. "And yet it never hatched for anyone. Dwarves just wished that the new Riders would be allies but the Varden and the elves had more personal stakes. Riders have only ever been elves or humans – none of them was ever a dwarf. It is why I asked for the eggs to be ferried yearly, with one staying with the humans and the elves for the entirety of the year. The eggs never hatched – but now we know why."

"They hatched for people far from the Varden – and to those who were not allowed to touch them." Faolin smiled. "Which makes all of these circumstances very curious indeed. I wonder though, does the queen know of their existence?"

"No." Ajihad paused, gathering his thoughts. "After Nasuada ran off with Arya and her guards, Islanzadi was so enraged that she withdrew her support of the Varden. None of your people know of the dragons, as I was not able to explain it properly before she threw a fit."

"That… is truly our queen," Arya murmured. "She has always had quite a temper."

Faolin nodded. "Don't worry, her hostility will abate once we return to Ellesmera. My people will be expecting all six of them to finish their training there, though I am not sure that there's time for that."

"What? But why?" Murtagh asked. "We'll work hard for it. We won't disappoint Brom or our new teachers."

Ajihad bowed his head and closed his eyes. Worry emanated from him, and the dragons reacted with uncomfortable grumbles. "True, but we are in a delicate position. While we have agreed on letting the new Riders train with them after a time, we cannot risk angering the dwarves, who have given us their hospitality and let us reside in Tronjheim. They let us live here and provide assistance when needed but their loyalty is solely to King Hrothgar. He has enough trouble pacifying the thirteen dwarf clans and their powerful chiefs who are to elect Hrothgar's successor as king in the future. Hrothgar is an ally but many of his chiefs aren't. If their king angers them, they will withdraw their support."

Brom grinned, but it looked old and tired. "These clan chiefs are also against you and your dragons. There has long been emnity between dragons and dwarves because dragons used to kill their flock and steal gold. Dwarves do not forgive easily. Galbatorix and his Forsworn has worsened their hatred – and they never let the Riders serve them in any way before that too. We are lucky enough that he fears the elves enough not to come marching there, even if his elven Forsworn told him of their cities."

"And we have another problem – his strength keeps growing more than what could be expected of even a regular elf. We do not know what causes it, but whatever it is, it can't be good. Not even the elves know of it." Ajihad brought out a slightly battered and bloody piece of parchment. "This parchment caused us twelve men, but we gleaned important information from it. The Urgals – scores of them – are going to meet at Ithro Zhada, which seems to be an existing place that Galbatorix has renamed for his own purposes."

"He's forging an army of humans and Urgals to destroy this place," Faolin said in horror. "But this Ithro Zhada could be anywhere."

"Aye, we can only wait and watch – but as the Urgals last night have all been slaughtered, no one can return to report about the location of Farthen Dur," Ajihad said wearily. "You're lucky that my sentinels spotted you and knew that you were coming. This still raises many serious questions, like how Galbatorix has found out which merchants support us, and how to ambush the ambassador on his way here. Our supplies are limited, even with the dwarves' help."

"Then there's a traitor here, like I have said before," Nasuada said. She gave her father a level look. "Reading the minds of all who enter here seems to not work."

After a few more discussions regarding what the Varden wanted and expected from the Riders, and for them to discuss more options in the coming days. He also praised the six dragons, who were all pleased with his discreet flattery. Then, called for the dwarf, Orik.

Orik may have been shorter than a human, but he walked as swiftly as one when he moved into Ajihad's study. He nodded to Brom before facing Ajihad. "I am here."

"You've caused me a great deal of trouble," Ajihad told him. "One of those blasted Twins was complaining to me all morning about your insubordination! None of them will stop heckling me until I punish you. The thing is that they're absolutely right, and I can't ignore the rules. You must bear responsibility for your actions."

Though he betrayed no emotion, Orik's eyes flickered to Brom and back again. He began to speak in rough tones. "The Kull have trapped them in Kostha-merna and rained arrows upon the group – and the Twins did nothing to help. Not even when they gave us the password and were seeking sanctuary. When one of them fell into the water, they refused to take action. I cannot let a Rider die."

"Eragon was not strong enough to get out of the water himself," offered Nasuada, remembering her friend falling into the lake and struggling. "He would have drowned without Orik's help."

"But then, why did you oppose him later?" Ajihad pressed on.

Orik raised his chin with a defiant grunt. "They would have forced themselves into the mind of our oldest and greatest ally? Brom? Forgive me if I was mistaken but I was under the impression that Brom is not to be tested, like that strange woman."

"Yes, Brom and Faolin need not be tested. We have known them for years." Ajihad narrowed his eyes. "It would have been simpler if you have let them be but. We shouldn't force ourselves into people's minds, whoever they are. You did the honorable thing but the fact remains. You defied your own commander. The penalty for that is death."

"You can't kill him for that!" Eragon's face turned as white as paper. "He was only helping me!"

"Eragon, it is not your place to interfere. Orik has broken the law, and he must pay for it. And yet because of the circumstances, it can be alleviated. Orik, you are now removed from active service. You cannot engage in military activities under my command. Do you understand?"

Orik bowed his head, confused. "Yes."

"Now, in the absence of your old duties, I appoint you as our new guests' guide for the duration of the stay. Make sure that they receive every comfort that we could offer. The dragons may stay above Isidar Mithrim, and the rest may take quarters wherever they wish to. Nasuada may have her old room back if she still wishes to share it with her sister." Ajihad's face darkened subtly. So it seemed like Hiseria still resented her. He reached below his desk and handed the group their weapons. "Very well, you may go for now. Brom, Faolin, we will need to talk of a few more matters before I send for the Twins. Nasuada, I will be expecting a conversation with you soon."

* * *

In the hall, Katrina stretched her back. Her body felt stiff from sitting so long. She wished that her mother was around but it seemed like they were not fated to meet in the Varden. With a sigh, she watched the rest of her friends march out of Ajihad's study with Orik and the dragons.

"Sorry. I got you in trouble," Eragon was telling the dwarf.

"Ah, don't bother yourself, lad," Orik told him with a grin. "Truth be told, Ajihad actually gave me what I wanted."

"What does that mean?" Murtagh asked. "You can't do any training or fight, and now you're even stuck with a new duty – guarding all six of us. How can that be something that you could have actually wanted?"

"Ajihad is a good and wise leader. He's great when it comes to balancing the law and remaining just. He may have punished me as someone under his command and yet I am still one of Hrothgar's many subjects. I'm still free to do what I wish under his rule."

Katrina was still a bit about the dual nature of the authority within Tronjheim and Orik's loyalties, but she knew that it would be unwise to forget it. "Did he just put you in a powerful position?"

Orik chuckled. He grabbed an orange lantern. "You got that right, lass. He did just that, and the Twins can't complain about the way he did it. He sure knows how to irritate the Twins. They're unpleasant, and Ajihad can't stand them even if they're needed around here. Now come, we should get those dragons settled. Tell me their names and yours as we go."

"Can other people in Farthen Dur use magic?" Roran was asking as they began to walk.

"Few enough," Nasuada said quickly. "I heard that most of them can barely do more than heal bruises at that. It's why Father values the Twins so much, even if they're nasty."

"Oei, and their art is not of the healing, anyway," Orik told her. "You should know better than that, Nasuada. Their talents lie in scheming for power and tormenting everyone around them to get what they want. Deynor, the former leader, allowed them to join because we need their capabilities. It would be difficult to oppose the Empire if our spellcasters can't even hold their own in battle. They may be unpleasant but we need them. And they know it, the scheming little sheilven."

As they reached one of the main tunnels within Tronjheim, they passed by clusters of people – both human and dwarves – who stared at the dragons and dropped their conversations as they passed. Katrina found herself walking between Roran and Arya, who both looked irked by the attention. They headed for one of Tronjheim's gates.

"Where are we going?" Eragon looked around, cheeks reddening as a girl giggled at him.

"We're leaving these halls so your dragons can fly to the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim – the Star Rose. The peak of Tronjheim is open to the sky like that of Farthen Dur, so dragons can glide to the hold as they wish. My dear dragons, it is where Riders used to stay when they visited Tronjheim." Orik smiled with pride as he shared his knowledge to the young Riders. "There will be no rain nor snow here thanks to the protection of Farthen Dur. There are marble caves for dragons – even a full-grown, century old one if need be. Fear only the icicles, which can cleave a horse in two."

_Oh, we will be fine. Marble caves are a luxury compared to where we have stayed before,_ Luneria said in excitement.

_What do you think of the Varden?_ Katrina asked.

_Ajihad is a good man. We have nothing to fear from him, but we must be wary of the Twins. I do not like them._

Katrina pursed her lips, remembering the way they scoured through her mind. If Luneria didn't help, the ordeal may have been worse, and important things like some words from the Ancient Language may have been known by them. "Where are our horses?"

"There are stables by the gate," Orik said. "We can visit them before heading to the dragonhold, if you wish."

By the time they left Tronjheim, so many hours have passed and the crater was a velvety black. The lanterns around the gate's golden griffins cast a vivid light around them. Orik pointed at the top of Tronjheim. "The dragonhold awaits you, mighty dragons, along with fresh meat and the purest mountain water. Once you have chosen your space, we shall send bedding in there. No one will disturb you there."

"Oh, I thought we were to go there together," Arya said in surprise.

"The tunnels leading to the place where food is prepared are not big enough to accommodate dragons, so it would be best for them to wait while you eat. It's a long way to the top but I could send a servant to deliver it to you if you want."

_It seems like he actually means it, yet it feels like he's somehow testing us._ Katrina leaned against Luneria for a moment.

_I'm weary, and it feels like I will like this dragonhold. Go ahead and eat. We can catch up and talk more of these things later._ Luneria was already spreading her wings, and so were the other dragons.

The Riders strapped their swords to the dragon saddles and bade them goodbye for a moment, keeping their bows just in acse. Orik smiled, apparently satisfied. The dragons let out a mighty roar and flew up, Luneria spiralling beside Askanir with glee.

"Those dragons are a beauty. I find myself longing for the open skies all of a sudden. I'm still better off with my feet on – or under it, I would prefer that." Orik chuckled. "The Twins gave you a pitiful dinner, I heard. They shame us. Barely feeding the ambassador, Brom and Ajihad's daughter herself is crime enough, and they make it worse by starving six Riders and their dragons. Come, come, let's beg meat and bread from the cooks. And vegetables for you, young elf."

"No, no, I'm perfectly fine with meat," Arya said with a grin. "I wish you would not tell any of my people about it though."

"Oh, it will not be a problem. You're different from your cold and confusing people, lass. Be proud of it."

* * *

**So, without the need to assess the Riders' skills since Brom is around, what will our young Riders do with their free time? Aside from Nasuada's unpleasant future family reunion, that is.**

**As always, I loooove reviews :3 We're nearing the end!**


	22. A True Blessing

**Still looking for a disclaimer? Go back... go back...**

**So, a short-ish chapter since the next one deals with more than one kind of reunion. Guess who?**

* * *

**Chapter 22: A True Blessing**

Eragon found himself walking through the labyrinth of corridors right between Roran and Murtagh, just like they always did back in Carvahall. Roran was peppering Orik some questions about the dwarven culture, such as what they usually mined, the weapons they forged and whether hammers should be slung across the back or hung on belts.

Murtagh, on the other hand, was quiet. His brown-red eyes were cast down and he tried to avoid his brother's eyes. He didn't have the blank yet alert look often associated with a mental conversation. He caught his brother's eye and frowned. _I'm sorry._

Eragon raised an eyerbow. _What for? I don't remember us having an argument._

_I was unable to help you last night – with that Twin. He's powerful and what he did to you might be more painful than when he probed us, and it scared me. _Murtagh ran a hand through his hair. _Aunt Marian asked me to look out for you on her deathbed and I didn't do that last night, eh? And when we came to Ajihad's study this morning, seeing the other Twin froze me in fear. I couldn't move or breathe, and Roran had to drag me just to sit before Ajihad. It's all because I saw how just one managed to disable you last night._

_ You're afraid?_ Eragon always looked up to his brother –fearless Murtagh who may have been quiet and logical, but also had a more hot-tempered side when someone was picking on childish Eragon or patient Roran. _I'm afraid of them too,_ he admitted. _But think of this. We're twins too – and Riders. Our power grows with our dragons, which means that we will surpass them someday. We have no need to fear them._

Murtagh smiled. _Thank you. I've thought so much of looking out for you, I never imagined you looking out for me too._

Eragon reflected that smile. _It's what brothers do, Murty._

_Ah, I hope you've forgotten that childish nickname, Erie._ Murtagh rubbed his stomach. _I'm hungry._

They entered a long room where rows of stone tables and stools high enough for dwarves was located. Soapstone ovens blazed behind a long counter, where Orik strode to. Their dwarven host conversed to a male of his kind in their language, and soon procured stone plates piled high with steaming fish and mushrooms. They then followed Orik to a long flight of steps that ended in a spacious alcove carved out from the outer wall of the great city-mountain. They ate in silence, crossing their legs for comfort.

Upon finishing, Orik began puffing on his long-stemmed pipe with a contented sigh. "A good meal, but mead would have helped improve it, if you ask me."

"It was delicious," Eragon agreed, and he meant it. "Are there farms here in Farthen Dur?"

"Nay, the sunlight is too little. Moss, mold and mushrooms are the only things thriving in here and we can't farm those, can we?" Orik surveyed the ground below with pensieve eyes. "That's the thing 'bout Tronjheim, lad. We cannot survive without the supplies coming in from other cities. It's why many of us dwarves choose to live in other cities here in the Beors."

"Oh, so there are many other dwarf cities?" Roran asked excitedly. "Maybe we could visit them someday!"

"There are some, scattered throughout the mountains but they're not as many as we would like them to be. You might have not noticed it before but Tronjheim's mostly deserted. Many dwarves live under Tronjheim and Farthen Dur's tunnel networks instead, comprised of caverns and passageways – some made by nature herself and others made by us."

"Father did tell me once that you could walk from one end of the mountain range to the other without seeing the sky even once," Nasuada added. "I've been a little afraid of asking another dwarf, but is it not a waste, having all this unused space?"

Orik nodded with a wry smile. "Many dwarves have argued that we should abandon this place altogether. It asks too much from our resources, but it's a useful place too. It can house our entire nation – and the Varden too – should the need arise. It has housed all dwarves thrice in history and saved our race from destruction, but we can never be too sure that it won't happen again. 'Tis why we always keep it garrisoned and always ready for use."

Katrina smiled at him. "No matter what they say, I've never seen such a magnificent place in my entire life, right, Arya?"

"True. Nothing in Ellesmera can compare to the vast richness and skill shown here in Tronjheim." Arya finished the last of her fish with glee. "You see, my people are all about being subtle and being boring."

"I truly am glad to hear that. Dwarves live longer than men, though we are not as ageless as elves, and it still took us three generations to finish Tronjheim," Orik mused. "The Empire makes sure that view can see its glory, which is a shame."

"How many of the Varden are humans?" Katrina asked. "I'm wondering about all those people who escaped the Empire, you see…"

"Ah, that would be a poor indicator of what you want to know, though if you're wondering, there are four thousand humans here. Those are the only ones who want to fight. The rest have fled to Surda, protected by King Orrin."

"That's so few," Murtagh told him. "The royal army numbers at sixteen thousand, and that's not counting the Urgals and the personal army of each Forsworn general."

"Don't worry! Orrin promised military help when time comes, and father says that the elves promised their aid too." Nasuada still looked uneasy though.

"She's right. And the dwarves will fight when the war begins, or even before it if need be," Orik said. "Your people won't be alone in the final battle and besides… We now have six Riders to even out the odds a bit – though that's still one less than the king and his Forsworn."

Murtagh stretched his legs with a sigh, almost kicking Roran's back. "I hope there were more dragon eggs. Does the king have dragon eggs of his own?"

"Not that we know off. He killed them all off, thinking that his blasted Forsworn's dragons will mate with each other and lay eggs. None has managed to do it… so far." Orik shuddered. "An entire nest of eggs under Galbatorix would be dangerous."

"So, is the symbol on your helm signifying your clan? I saw it on Tronjheim's floors too," Arya said excitedly.

"Aye." Orik put his helm on the ground to show them. "I'm from the Ingietum, master smiths and metalworkers. The hammer and stars you see upon my helm and the floors of Tronjheim are the personal crest of our founder and first king, Korgan. There is one clan to rule, and twelve to support it. King Hrothgar is also of the Dugrimst Ingietum, bringing so much honor and glory to its name."

Once they returned their plates to the kitchen, a dwarf passed by them and bowed to the Riders. "Argetlam," he said with geniune respect before moving away.

"What did he say?" Eragon muttered, feeling uncomfortable. He never met someone showing so much respect to him. It pleased him a little too.

"Argetlam means silver hand – a term of respect for Riders," Arya supplied. She wrinkled her nose and sniffed. "We need a bath."

Orik nodded. "Nasuada can help you girls. I'll help the lads here look for the male bath."

* * *

"Ah, that feels good," Roran said, stepping out of the bath dressed in a clean tunic and breeches, courtesy of the dwarves in Tronjheim. He was smoothing down the plain linen tunic with one hand while running his other hand through his hair.

"Washing off our journey's stink does feel symbolic," Murtagh said with a grin. He was trying to part his damp hair properly, though a lot of it clung to his forehead obstinately.

Orik stood with Eragon, who was the first to finish his bath. Together, they walked out of Tronjheim, with the girls waiting by the main tunnel under Isidar Mithrim. "This place sure is big," Roran said, marvelling once more at the beauty of the Star Rose. "How do you communicate?"

"Ah, we solved that long ago, lad." Orik pointed to the archways around them. "See those arches lining each level? There's a single, unbroken staircase behind those, spiralling around the walls in the city's inner chamber. It can even reach the dragonhold high above us. That's the Vol Turin – the Endless Staircase – and it's impractical for emergencies and casual needs. That's why we use flashing lanterns to convey signals too. We seldom use the polished wooden trough beside the Vol Turin, which acts as a giant slide."

"Is it dangerous?" Murtagh asked, his smile widening slowly.

"Very. Don't even think of it." It was Nasuada who answered. "It's built for dwarves. It will be too narrow even for us. You might slip out of it and get thrown against the stairs, smash against the arches or land in some empty space."

Outside, the dragons met them with a rustle of scales. A crowd was steadily trickling out of the city-mountain behind them, humans and dwarves murmuring with interest. "You better go. I'll send someone to wake you up tomorrow. Meet me by the gate."

Roran was just a couple of yards from Askanir when an old woman grabbed Eragon by the shoulder. Her sad gray eyes peered at the Riders pleadingly. A child no older than three or four years old clung to her, dressed in ragged clothing.

"W-what do you want?" Eragon stammered.

"This child has no parents, and she only has me to care for her. I am old and weak. Bless her with your power. Bless her for luck, Argetlam." The old woman gave Eragon a pleading look.

_W-what should I do? We've never blessed anyone before,_ Eragon asked everyone nervously.

_Blessings are not things that you do lightly,_ Roran cautioned him. _It could backfire and become a curse instead._

_Do it together. _Askanir's voice boomed through the six Riders' minds. _A blessing from all of the last free Riders will do her good._

"Bless her, Argetlam… Please!" the woman kept pleading.

_Remember Aunt Marian's blessing?_ Murtagh perked up excitedly. _May luck and happiness follow you, and may you be shielded from misfortune. Arya, can you translate it to the Ancient Language?_

_ Atra gulai un ilian tauthr ono un atra ono waise skoliro fra rauthr,_ Arya told him slowly. _We could say it together. That would make it a true blessing, would it not? Words of power, spoken by people with power._

The dragons stood around the girl, who watched them with wide, violet eyes. They laid their hands over her and uttered the blessing together. Roran was surprised by the rush of energy that left his body, like he used magic himself. "This is all that we can do for her," he found himself saying. "Those words are the only ones who might have the power to forestall tragedy."

The woman bowed to them. "Thank you, thank you Argetlam," she murmured, starting to back away from them.

The dragons began to hum, and everybody stopped moving – even the woman and the Riders. One by one, they gently brushed their snouts on the girl's forehead and when the last dragon to do so, Askanir, moved away, the crowd gasped. On the smiling girl's forehead was a star-shaped mark, white and shimmering like a gedwey ignasia. The old woman stared at the dragons and thanked them repeatedly.

The Riders smoothly mounted their dragons and took flight before the awed crowd could react. "W-What did they do?" Murtagh stammered.

_We gave her hope. You little ones gave her a future,_ Saphira told everyone smugly.

"We're barely men, and we've consulted with the leader of the Varden, adventured with elves, battled two of the Forsworn, killed the Ra'zac and outran the king's army." Roran sounded weary as he clung to Askanir. "Now they're asking for our blessings. What will people be asking from us next? There's nothing we can do that an army can't do better."

_You're a hatchling,_ Askanir said. _One that is struggling into the world. Don't worry about the future. As for these people, we can help them out wherever and however we can. You're asking for feats no army can do? What do you call that blessing?_

_ Just that. A blessing,_replied Roran.

_You created a new story – a new legend. That child will never be just a farmer or an innkeeper, not when she has been blessed by six Riders and marked by six dragons. Riders and dragons affect the fates of the people around them in unique ways. What happened today is just one of the ways that dragons can change the world._

They reached the dragonhold after a few more minutes. It was a roofless room sixty feet high and sixty feet across, filled with caves of different sizes. There were rungs on the marble halls so that anybody could reach them. Askanir leapt into the air and landed in a medium-sized cave.

Inside, the walls were a dark brown shade and deeper than expected. There was a thick cushion for Askanir to curl up on, and a bed built to the side of the wall. A pale violet lantern lit the room, complete with a shutter so the light could be muted.

_It feels… safe._ Roran sat on the bed, feeling the aches of their journey fading slowly.

_Yes._ Askanir curled up by his feet, closing his eyes. _It seems like swords and claws will be useless in the battles we shall fight within the Varden. Words and alliances will be our weapons. We have to look out for the unpleasant Twins. They don't like us at all – not even Faolin and Brom. The dwarves distrust us and the elves might resent the fact that there's only one Rider from their race. We should know who has infulence, and befriend them. Quickly._

_ Do you think we could remain independent of any leader?_

_ We shall see. Ajihad may like our freedom but it might be impossible to survive without pledging alliance to someone._

* * *

**I was listening to the radio the other day and they announced that the "cold when monsoons/typhoons are here and horribly warm when it's dry" season is officially over! They said that it's finally the "fully dry unless it becomes really hot in the morning" season, and that since it's November, it'll be fairly cold 'till January. Well, it's really COLD AND RAINY now, but there's a strange TYPHOON looming over the horizon. WHUUUT.**

**Another uninspired chapter whose original copy is LOST FOREVER and I had to rewrite! It seems like my usual formula of Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Evanescence, All Time Low, Paramore, Owl City, Coldplay and Katy Perry ain't working. Gaaaah. Are there any gamers here?**

**Oh, and for those wondering, I'm planning to make separate "books" for Eldest through Inheritance and for those wondering about the title this one has? I'll probably explain it at the very end. :3**

**So, the blessing isn't botched this time! How could it affect our little tale? ****Who do you think will pop up for the next chapter, aside from Angela, Solembum and Nasuada's family?**

**Stay tuned, folks, and don't forget to review!**


	23. A Day of Meetings

**Disclaimer? What disclaimer? Find it in previous chapters else I'll sic my dragons on you and FUS...RODAH!**

**So, we're hit with a country-wide 250kph storm right now though we're in the mountainous edges of its grasp and therefore don't have to deal with its much worse temper (it hit the seaside islands to the south instead) and I can't rule out power outage, plus I'll be meeting up with highschool friends for some SaTHORday goodness tomorrow. Ahhh, the old days of highschool. Glad that it's four years behind me now. Blehhh. **

**Read on, and virtual cookies for those who find a Skyrim reference below!**

* * *

**Chapter 23: A Day of Meetings**

Murtagh lay on his bed for a long time after he woke up. Though his body was still weary from days of hard traveling, he felt safe and hopeful for the first time since Gil'ead. He never felt that way since they set off from Palancar Valley, except for when they saved Garrow and managed to kill the Ra'zac and their foul mounts. Being warm, with a full belly and well-rested wasn't something he realized that he missed until he had it once more.

His eyes roamed to the snoozing ruby dragon on the floor as he thought of Nasuada for a few seconds before cursing himself for daydreaming. He heard the soft pad of paws as a cat slipped into the cave. It licked its black paws and gazed at him with red eyes.

_Is that you, Solembum?_ The young Rider sat up in surprise.

The cat began to stretch lazily, keeping his eyes on Murtagh. He shook his mane and yawned, exposing his sharp teeth. _Obviously. Coming?_ He jumped out of cave and landed twenty feet below, on Isidar Mithrim's smooth back.

Murtagh caught Thorn's eye. _Go, nothing will harm me and I've got other dragons to keep me company while you run off with your two-leg friends and that tasty-looking werecat._

_Don't even think of that, dragon,_ Murtagh joked as he clambered down the cave.

Solembum was waiting under the arch leading to the rest of Tronjheim with Eragon standing right beside him. As soon as Murtagh's feet touched the star sapphire, the werecat turned and bounded through the arch.

"What's that about?" Eragon asked.

"I have no inkling," muttered Murtagh.

The brothers chased after the cat and found themselves standing before Vol Turin, the long flight of stairs running through Tronjheim. Since there was nowhere else for them to go, they began to descend. Their footsteps echoed, creating a haunting effect. They stepped into an empty walkway curving gently to the left and encircling the central chamber of Tronjheim.

Slender columns supported the ceiling, with the sparkling Isidar Mithrim peeking in between them. The overall size of the area began to increase with each level, and the staircase cut through the walkway to an identical level right below them, descending to more walkways before disappearing into the distance. It lived up to its name – it truly felt endless. Along the outside curve of the stairs was a sliding trough, with leather squares to slide on piled at the top of the stairs.

Solembum padded down a corridor leading to rooms and apartments. The two boys tried to catch up to him, spotting his flipping tail for a moment. They rounded a corner, where the werecat stopped before a door, yowling. The door slid inward, as if by magic, and he bounded inside before the door closed. The brothers stood before the door, staring at each other.

"Well, after you, brother," Eragon said with a smile.

"I must always do things myself, don't I?" joked Murtagh.

Before he could even raise his hand to knock, the door opened once more and warm, pale blue light spilled out. The brothers nodded to each other and stepped inside together. They were in an earthy suite made up of two rooms. Carved wood and clinging plants surrounded them, giving the place a warm, humid but fresh air. Flameless lanterns hung all around the place, illuminating some intriguing items cluttered around the floor. At the far end of the room was a large four-poster bed along with more plants.

Angela sat in the center of the main room, smiling to the boys. "I'd offer you a chair but I only have one." She folded her hands in her lap.

"Well, what're you doing here?" Eragon blurted out before Murtagh could stop him.

"Why don't you sit on the floor and I'll tell you?" Angela waited patiently while the twins settled between two flasks of bubbling green potions. Her pale gray eyes examined them with smiles. "So you really are Riders – you and your companions. I was wondering why Solembum was talking to six children but it all felt interesting. He must have known but I didn't – not until yesterday, that is. I should have known. You're Thorn and Saphira's Riders, yes? I like those names. They fit a dragon."

Murtagh stared at the seemingly young woman who appeared to be no older than eighteen. Her eyes seemed far too ancient for that. "We didn't tell Brom about you."

Angela laughed. "That old man scoffed at my apparently lighthearted approach to magic. I think he just isn't pleased that many of us know of his sad fate. It was his wyrd to fail in many tasks, and yet shine in those where he succeeded. He guarded and trained you well, bringing hope to the Varden. He even fell in love with a woman who partly undid many things within him and yet seemed to have also helped in the end."

"He fell in love?"

"Yes, but enough of that! Life goes on. We're in Tronjheim now, and I happen to be here because I sensed a return of the past when you and your friends visited me. I heard whispers of Riders harming Enduriel enough to make him hide in Uru'baen instead of roaming around his lair in Dras-Leona. I was sure that the dragon eggs have hatched, so I packed up and closed my shop to learn more."

Eragon raised his hand tentatively. "Then does that mean that you knew about the eggs?"

At the same time, Murtagh asked, "How long have you been in here?"

"You do ask a lot of questions, don't you?" Angela shrugged. "I'm not an idiot, lad. I'm much older than I look, and little happen which I know not. The place is kind of musty and everyone's too nobly serious for my taste, to be honest. They might be doomed to tragic deaths. And those superstitious dwarves will be content with hammering rocks all of their life. If you must know, I've been here for a month. The mushrooms and fungi here are unique though."

"And the frivolous lady likes to be where things happen. And that cat of hers would have left her behind – and you enjoy his company, don't you, herbalist?"

A woman stepped into the room with a wry smile. Her voice was deep and rich, sounding achingly familiar for some reason. Her curly hair was the color of rust, streaked with silver in a few places. She looked like a woman well in her thirties, but carried herself with youthful vitality. She must have been beautiful in her youth, with a slender face, full lips and deep blue eyes. She wore a dark violet cloak over a vest and a long-sleeved dress. "Hello, Angela."

"Ah, you're just in time! My young friends here are just about to tell me all of their adventures since they became Riders," Angela said with a smile.

"I don't think that it's a wise idea," Murtagh said, distrusting the woman. She could be allied to the twins or other people who wish to harm them, after all.

"Don't be ridiculous. Here, here, have a seat," Angela said, waving the woman over. After she settled beside a pile of reed, the herbalist raised an eyebrow at the twins. "Well, what are you waiting for? Tell me!"

For the next hour, the brothers took turns summarizing all of their adventures since discovering the dragon eggs. Angela listened quietly until they finished, but the woman stared at the twins with blatant interest and something else. Once done, she leaned against her chair and closed her eyes. Solembum jumped out of his hiding place and curled up on Angela's lap, eyeing the brothers haughtily.

"Well, that's all," Eragon said, "unless you want to hear about how we want to give the Twins a taste of their own medicine soon."

"Oh, never mind about that," Angela told him airily. "Everyone in the right mind wants to do it too. "Galbatorix allying with Urgals and this Shade… Aside from our old friend Galby and his Forsworn, he's probably the biggest threat to the Varden. I positively loathe Shades! This Durza, like every other one of his kind, use unholy magic second only to necromancy."

"What? But Brom told us that Shades are sorcerers that use spirits to accomplish their will. How could it make them evil?"

It was the strange woman who answered. "It doesn't, my young Shur'tugal. Ordinary sorcerers are, as their name implies, ordinary. They're neither better nor worse than anybody, and rely on the strength of their magic to control spirits and their powers. Shades are far worse than that. In their search for greater power, they surrender control of their body to the spirits that they summon. Only the most evil spirits would attempt this, and will never leave once they take over. A spirit who summons a stronger spirit might do this by accident too."

"She's right," Angela said. "You know how difficult they are to kill, especially if they wear durable armor. Only Laetri the elf and Irnstad the Rider ever survived to bear the name Shadeslayer."

The woman smiled. "I am sure that Brom told them of these stories. He's good at that. Now old woman, what are you doing so high up here when there are many cozy spots down there? If you can bear having those damned Twins around, that is."

"I've been here a few days enjoying my peace when a guard blabbed to someone about my identity. The abominably horrible, talentless magic users began flocking to me, begging for me to join their secret but widely-known group. The Twins are especially drajl! I tried threatening to turn them into toads – er, frogs, but it didn't work. I sneaked her late one night. With my skills, it doesn't need much work."

Murtagh raised an eyebrow. "Wait, does that mean that they didn't probe into your mind? They basically tortured my brother to see his memories."

"Aye, those twins are nasty, but they wouldn't dare probe a few people, myself included, in fear of what I could do to them when they do. The effort would probably break them too. Besides, I've been comng and going long before that practice was adapted, and they can't just start on me now. Well, wasn't that an enlightening talk? I have some matters to attend to now, and I was under the impression that my dear friend wants to talk to you now. Please don't tell anyone that I'm here. I'll be very, uh, irritated and you don't want to see me in that state."

"Very well. We won't. It was nice talking to you," Eragon said, rising to his feet.

Murtagh followed, shooting the new woman a furtive glance as they stepped out of the room. "That was refreshing. So, what do you need, lady?"

"My, my. I thought that my brother taught you better," the woman said, her face breaking into a gently affectionate smile. "Is that the proper way of greeting your mother?"

* * *

Nasuada found herself waking up with three people standing in her cave, cautiously distancing themselves from Solaris' golden form. The dragon watched them with amusement, smoke curling up from her nose. Ajihad stood at the very edge of the cave, arms crossed. "Daughter, must you sleep so long?"

Nasuada sat up, rubbing her eyes sleepily. "Father?" she croaked.

"We didn't come all the way up here just to watch you sleep, Princess," a girl said spitefully. She stood tall and proud. She looked almost exactly like Nasuada, except that her hair was cut in a severe, shoulder-length style. Her dress was a gold shade that brought out the color of her eyes. Hiseria had that bitter smile that marred her otherwise pretty face ever since her twin became a Rider.

"Peace," a deep, mellow voice said.

Their brother Melikir, older by a good two years, stood taller than even Ajihad. Unlike his muscular father, he was thin and gangly, even though he was surely well past that phase. His hair was longer than it was when Nasuada ran away, falling to the collar of his white shirt. He smiled genuinely to his sister and nodded to Solaris.

"What are you doing here? I was going to pay you a visit later," Nasuada said. She still felt a little groggy as she stood up. Solaris lazily crawled over to stand beside her. _I'm looking forward to seeing Melikir again but Himeria…_

_I can eat her for you,_ Solaris said, growling at Ajihad's elder daughter.

"Oh mighty dragon, you terrify me," Himeria said coldly, earning the further ire of the golden dragoness. "Father said that it would be good for all of us to meet as the great Argetlam and her companions have been gone too long."

"Don't mind her," Melikir said, briefly embracing his youngest sister. "I did miss you, and I am sure that she did too."

"Miss her? Of course I missed her, the perfect daughter who wouldn't even have a dragon if I didn't ask her to guide the young elf wench to Father."

"Arya is not a wench," Nasuada hissed as Solaris began growling angrily. "Why do you act like this? We used to be close."

Ajihad gave Himeria a look of warning. "Daughter, why must you disrespect a Rider, and your own sister?"

Himeria gave him a hysterical laugh. "I told you that I did not want to come to this – this reunion! It should have been me! I was trained to battle! I am older. The golden beast should have hatched for me and not her. I'm more capable of it, Father. The spells that the Twins taught me, the ways of war that I asked Orik to teach me –"

_They are all for naught!_ Solaris roared – a mighty sound reverberated throughout the cave and the entire dragonhold. With mighty thudding sounds, five dragons alighted and peered into the cave. Katrina, Roran and Arya were with their partners. _We, the Skulblaka, choose our Riders for their hearts and not for what they can do. You are too twisted to be accepted by any but the vilest of my kind. Now leave before I eat you!_

"I wish that I never saved you when we were little. You should have died." With a tone of finality, Himeria left the cave, ignoring the growling dragons and four Riders.

Roran cleared his throat. "Is everything fine?"

Nasuada felt herself choking up. She knew that her sister resented her and felt bitter. After all, Murtagh and Eragon have proven that twins can become Riders, and now only the younger sister became one. Himeria may have thought that it was unfair, but did she truly wish that her sister was dead? "Everything is fine."

"Nothing is, Nasuada," Ajihad said sadly. "I must go. Orik will be here shortly. Melikir, will you be coming with me?"

Melikir nodded. "We'll talk later, sister. I hope we could resolve your problem with Himeria."

Once Ajihad and Melikir departed, Nasuada sat on her bed. Katrina and Arya sat on other side of her, while Roran stood by the entrance. "What was that about?" Arya asked. "Is that your family? I have only met your father before."

"Aye, that was my elder brother, Melikir and my older twin, Himeria. She resents me, and it has probably increased twofold upon seeing the Twin Riders." Nasuada watched Solaris conversing with the other dragons, probably telling them about the events. "She is older and is the one that father trained more – though her training with the Twins is unsanctioned."

"I'm sorry about your sister," Katrina said. "I never knew that having non-Rider siblings would be such a problem. Your brother's fine with it, then?"

"Yes. He was proud and pleased. Himeria is my only problem."

Arya smiled. She put a hand on Nasuada's shoulder gently. "If it helps, you've got us standing right behind you. I could even burn her corset if that's what it would take."

Roran snorted. "A hot-blooded elf who burns young girls' corsets isn't exactly what I was expecting when we set off."

"I am sixteen, and I grew up near an old, grouchy elf who is more like a dwarf, farmboy. Deal with it. You should meet her when we visit Ellesmera, I am sure that it will help further break the notion that elves are all emotionless unless we truly have reasons to grieve or celebrate."

* * *

Eragon stared at the lady before them, who stated the she was their mother like she was just talking about the weather. He wasn't even aware that he drew Kylskada halfway out of its sheath, it's blue blade gleaming faintly. "You're lying."

"I am Selena Nightblade, mother of Eragon and Murtagh," the woman said in the Ancient Language. "I am sister to Garrow Cadocsson, and am an agent of the Varden."

Anger flared up within Eragon. Ignoring Murtagh's warning shout, he raised his sword and used it to pin his mother against the wall. "Sixteen years. Where were you?" he asked. "Though Uncle Garrow and Aunt Marian loved us like their own, raising three sons cost them more than it would to raise one. He always wondered about what happened to you – worried that you could have gotten yourself killed."

Murtagh put a hand on Eragon's shoulder. "Hey, you should back away. Whoever she is, she's a woman and we don't hurt women. I'm sure she has a very reasonable explanation."

"Forgive me, son. You have every right to be enraged," Selena said as Eragon backed away, seething. "But I cannot bring my sons here – or to the Black King's castle, where I am often working. I can't expose you to the life I live. But now, it can't be avoided."

"What kind of life exactly do you live?" Eragon hissed.

_Little one, there is always a good time to unleash the dragon within you. Now is not it,_ warned Saphira. _Listen to your brother._

"Brom offered to watch over you and Marian's son, as you are too important and he was living in Carvahall anyway." Selena peered at her sons, as if seeing them for the first time. In a way, it was the case too. "I would have stayed too, but there are many things I need to do and you would be in danger if someone found out about me and took you away."

"You meant well," Murtagh said. "But it doesn't excuse your actions."

"Then you can't forgive me?"

"In time, perhaps. Not now."

" I would understand that you needed to keep us safe but what about Roran? Why is Brom looking after him too?" Eragon suddenly asked.

"It is not my place to talk of that," Selena said. She smiled sadly. "I just wanted to tell you that I am proud of you, and that your father would be too. I hope that we can talk more soon, and maybe you could get to meet your father too. I must leave now, I have many matters to attend to."

"We shall be expecting that," Murtagh said stiffly. "We have a lot of questions to ask you."

"And so do I. I must ask one now, before we part. Would you raise a shield in your brother's defense?"

"I would stand at his back, and his dragon's side, so the world may never overtake us," the twins said together. Their eyes widened in surprise and they stared at each other for a few minutes before facing their mother once more. "And it is true. We will also stand by the othe Riders, Brom and Ambassador Faolin, if you wish to know."

"More than what I expected," Selena admitted quietly. "I hope to see you both soon, and please forgive me for leaving you before – and for leaving you now."

A dwarf was waiting on the floor of the dragonhold – the back of Isidar Mithrim. Beside him were the others. For some reason, Nasuada didn't look as imposing as she usually did. Saphira and Thorn gazed at their Riders in concern.

"Argetlam," the dwarf said in a thick accent. He bowed to the brothers. "Good. Awake. Knurla Orik awaits you." He bowed again and scurried away.

"Are you fine?" Roran asked the two. "You look shaken."

Eragon shook his head, angry, confused and curious about his own mother. "We'll talk about it later. We can't just keep Orik waiting. He's been a gracious guide so far, and he's a very good person too."

Saphira watched Eragon approach her. _Little one, be glad to meet your mother. As much as I wish it, I will never meet mine._

_I know. It's just that… how could she find it easy to face us when she abandoned us for sixteen years?_ Eragon clambered to her back, arms wrapped momentarily around her scaly neck. _It doesn't matter for now. We will talk to her soon, and I would like you to come with me when time comes._

Saphira gave him an acknowledging thought as the dragons flew out of the dragonhold. Light was filtering through Farthen Dur, revealing the distant craters of the massive mountain. Eragon told Saphira of his encounter with Angela, since she knew a lot about the one with Selena already. He also told her of his suspicions that the strange, petite herbalist knew more about his parentage than he did.

Orik stood by Tronjheim's main gate and waved to them as they came nearer. "Dismount quickly – King Hrothgar wishes to speak with you. Come, come, we must hurry."

Eragon dismounted quickly and almost stepped on Katrina's toes. The girl yelped and hit him hard on the shoulder. With the strength of a Rider, it hurt. Orik clucked his tongue and motioned for them to follow him, the dragons keeping pace behind them while rumbling to each other.

"Where will we be meeting your king?" Roran asked. His violet eyes flickered nervously, and Eragon remembered his mother talking about his importance. What was it that made him need the protection of a former Rider and powerful spellcaster?

"He has a throne room beneath the city and wishes to meet you privately there as an act of 'otho' – faith." Orik led them through the central chamber and into right-hand descending stairway. It curved inward and met with the other staircase after it faced its original direction once more. The entire place was dimly lit, and ended a hundred feet later before a pair of double granite doors with a seven-pointed crown carved across them. "You need not use any special address when talking to him but be respectful, for Gunthera's sake. He is quick to anger and can deduce your thoughts keenly, so choose your words wisely."

The seven guards stationed by the door nodded to Orik. Their hammers were burnished and they wore jeweled belts. They pounted the shafts of their weapons on the floor as the group approached, a deep boom replying behind them. The door swung inward.

The hall before them was long enough that an arrow shot the right way could fly through it with ease. It was a natural cave filled with stalagmites and stalactites thicker than people. The meager distribution of the lanterns barely illuminated the brown floor by their feet. A motionless figure sat on a black throne at the end of the room.

_I feel nervous,_ Eragon admitted.

_Don't be. We're here together,_ Saphira assured him.

Orik bowed. "The king awaits you."

The group advanced forward slowly, all wary of the king before them – even Nasuada seemed nervous of their audience with Hrothgar. The door shut quickly behind them, leaving them alone with the king.

Their footsteps sounded too loud in the massive hall, echoing as they advanced to the throne. Eragon couldn't help but look around as they continued on their way. He could see statues between the stalacmites and stalagmites, resting in their own alcoves. They all depicted various dwarf kings crowned and seated on their thrones. Their fierce faces and blank eyes made them appear more intimidating than an average dwarf. After two rows of over forty statues, the alcoves contained only empty spaces awaiting more kings to sit on them. The group stopped before Hrothgar.

As still as a statue himself, the dwarven king sat upon a statue that looked like a raised throne. It was hewn from a massive piece of black marble that looked unadorned and was too blocky and precise to look comfortable. There was a quiet strength in the ancient stone – a testament to the times when the dwarves ruled Alagaesia without the elves or humans to fight and argue with them. Hrothgar wore a golden helm studded with rubies and diamonds, taking the place of a crown. He looked grim and weathered, the years of experience forging a strong, wise man. His gray eyes watched the Riders with veiled interest. His white beard rippled over his mail short, and a hammer lay on his lap, embossed with the symbol of the Ingeitum.

Eragon followed Nasuada's lead and bowed before kneeling to the queen. The dragons stood tall and proud, gracefully arching their necks as a sign of respect. The king stirred and smiled faintly. "Rise, young Riders. There is no need for you to pay your respects – even you, daughter of Ajihad."

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**Forgive me for not doing any justice to some of the more important scenes. I suck. :P But it does raise more questions, eh? What's with this mystery surrounding dear Roran? Who sired the heroic twins? Is it Brom? Morzan? Or *gasp* GALBY? Oh my Akatosh! And what fate will befall Elva and the Varden without her botched blessing hanging over her? Will Himeria make peace with her sister?  
**

**Tune in to this book and the next ones to find out, of course! *evil laugh***

**I appreciate everyone who points out spelling and grammar errors! :D I'll fix them once I finish the entire story since I'm such a lazy lady. Gah.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated as always, dear readers 3**


	24. Trust and Caution

**I'm bad with fillers, and watching Thor: The Dark World didn't help. I'm so distracted right now!**

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**Chapter 24: Trust and Caution**

Katrina followed the others as they rose to their feet. King Hrothgar inspected them for a moment before speaking once more. "Az knurl deimi lanok. Beware, the rock changes. It is something my people used to say. And it is true. All of this is happening so fast. Forgive me for not meeting you earlier as Ajihad did, for I was dealing with my enemies among other clans. They asked for me to deny you sanctuary in my halls and expel you from Farthen Dur, even if one of you is Ajihad's daughter. It has taken a lot of work on my part to deal with them."

"We thank you," Arya said with a small bow. "We did not have much idea about the amount of strife that we would cause in Farthen Dur. Not even my brother could have prepared us for this."

The king nodded in acknowledgement. "See there, Shur'tugalar, where the kings from the past sit upon their ancient thrones. There are one and forty, I the forty-second. Someday I shall pass from this world into the care of the gods' hands. When that day comes, my hirna – my likeness will be added among their ranks. The first and oldest of them is Korgan, forger of this mace, Volund. Since the dawn of my people eight thousand years ago, we have ruled here under Farthen Dur. Dwarves are the bones of the land – far older than the fair elves and savage dragons."

The dragons shifted in discomfort. _What does he mean?_ Luneria asked.

_I don't know, but I don't think that he wishes to irk you,_ Katrina replied.

"I am old, Riders – older than even my people's reckoning. I was old enough to have seen your Order at the height of its glory, old enough to have seen Vrael, who once walked these chambers and paid tribute to me. Very few of even my kin are alive who can tell you as much. I recall the way your Order meddled in our affairs, and yet made it possible for one to walk from Tronjheim to Narda without any troubles." Hrothgar leaned forward, his dark granite eyes jumping from one Rider to the next. "We once thought this tradition lost and here you stand before me. Tell me the truth, and only it. Why have you come to Farthen Dur? I know that some of you have someone here, and that some of the Varden are with you, but still…"

"For now, we only wish to recuperate from everything that has transpired," Roran said, straightening all of a sudden. "We do not wish to cause any trouble, try as many might to believe it. We only want to find sanctuary from the months of dangers we've faced. Ajihad may send us to the elves someday, but until he does, we have no wish to leave. Unless the time comes and we must fight with the Varden, of course."

"So it is not merely the desire for safety that drove you?"

"No. We have seen the pain and suffering caused by the king and his Forsworn have wrought upon Alagaesia." This time, it was Eragon who answered, and a steely look flashed upon his blue eyes. "We have our own grievances with the Empire and we have the power to help, and to prevent it from befalling other people."

Hrothgar seemed satisfied with his reply. He turned to the dragons. "What about you, fierce ones? What are your thoughts in this matter?"

_Tell them,_ Solaris said, her voice booming in the minds of the six Riders. _Tell them that dragons have always thirsted for the blood of their enemies and it has never changed the slightest. We will eagerly await the day when we shall take to the skies to battle Galbatorix and his Forsworn. We have no love for the false king and any other egg-breaking traitors. He might have some of my brethren's eggs and if that is the case, we shall save them from him. He will burn._

Nasuada cautiously relayed her dragon's words. A grim smile lifted Hrothgar's lips as he surveyed the dragons with newfound respect. "I see that your kind has not changed throughout the years." He rapped the throne lightly with his knuckles thoughtfully. "This was hewn flat and angular for a reason. No one will ever sit on it comfortably, even I. I won't regret letting go of this throne when my time comes. What about you, Riders? What reminder do you have of your obligations? Alagaesia will need a new king when the Empire falls, and there are five human Riders right now.." For some reason, his eyes fell upon Roran.

Roran froze. He glanced at the others. "We do not seek crowns and power. Being a Rider is obligation enough – no Rider can have sole allegiance to any race nor kingdom."

"Certainly, any of you young ones would be kinder than Galbatorix could ever be. No race is better off with a ruler who cannot age and leave the throne. The time of Riders have passed, even if you stand before me. But you are here to usher a new age." Silence fell as Hrothgar watched them shift uncomfortably. "Has my nephew proved his helpfulness to you?"

"Orik has been a gracious host and a good guide to the others," Nasuada said proudly.

"My youngest sister's son is a good knurla. I sent him to work in the Varden under Ajihad to show my support but I have heard that he was returned to my command – and I am glad that you have tried to defend him. I truly appreciate it. Now, my advisors are waiting for me, so I cannot talk to you more. It is most unfortunate as I wish to know you more but there are a lot of matters for me to deal with. Know though that to earn the support of the dwarves, proving yourself to the people of my realm will be important. Dwarves have long memories and thus our decisions are never hasty. Your words will be nothing without deeds."

The group bowed quietly. "We will keep that in mind," Katrina said suddenly.

Hrothgar nodded pleasantly. "You may go, then. If there are problems, do not hesitate to talk to Orik, Ajihad or me."

The group slowly made their way out of the hall of the mountain king. Orik was anxiously waiting for them outside. He led the way back to Tronjheim's main chamber. "How did it go? Did he receive you favorably?"

"I think so," Murtagh said.

"Your king is a cautious man," Katrina agreed. She remembered the granite eyes, wise with years of living and ruling.

Nasuada chuckled softly. "If a ruler is not cautious then he wouldn't survive for long."

_It would be unwise to earn the ire of Hrothgar,_ Luneria said.

Katrina nodded subtly, glancing at the silver dragoness. _Dire consequences would follow if we do cross him. It feels like he doesn't approve of dragons, even if he never said it to any of us outright. That's what troubles me._

_ He is wise enough. He's barely knee-high._

They reached the center of Tronjheim. The subtle, rosy light of Isidar Mithrim bathed them softly. Orik glanced at it with a frown. "Your blessing stirred the Varden. That dragon-marked child is being hailed as a future hero, and had her quartered in the finest rooms with her guardian. Everyone keeps talking about your miracle. Mothers will be searching for you and ask for your blessings before you know it."

"We can't take it back," said Katrina. She felt bothered. Who knew that something that meant well could cause a lot of trouble?

"Stay out of sight as much as possible," grunted Orik. "If you want to, you can stay in the dragonhold. Nobody will be able to disturb you there since we will keep everyone from it."

_We wish to return to the dragonhold, we have something to do,_ Firnen said, speaking for the dragons. _We will see you later. You can all wander around as much as you want._

_What will you be doing?_ Katrina put a hand on Luneria's neck.

_Later._Luneria gave her a large wink before following the other dragons through the other tunnels.

"You better get some breakfast," Orik suggested. "Then I could guide you to where you want to wander off next – unless you wish to visit your family, Nasuada?"

Nasuada paled. She looked down, sorrow in her golden eyes. "No, I'm coming with my friends," she said quietly. "Himeria will be fine without me and I could always talk to Melikir later. I'm sure my friends would love to visit the library later!"

"Aye, you would find many old scrolls there, some of them very valuable." Orik nodded with a proud smile. "You could read a proper history of Alagaesia, untainted by propaganda from the Black King."

"I'm not sure if we could still read as well," Eragon muttered. "But that would be interesting."

Right after breakfast, they trekked through the corridors of Tronjheim and through the carved arch of the library. It looked like a quiet, miniature forest. Graceful support columns branched up to the ceiling five stories above them. Shelves of black marble were filled with books. There were racks for scrolls covering the walls, mixed with narrow walkways that can be reached by three twisting staircases. Tables with bases flowing smoothly into the floor were placed around the walls, with facing benches for people who may want to read together.

"People used to say that Tronjheim is the greatest legacy of the dwarves." Orik motioned to the countless books and scrolls around them. "They were wrong. This is the true legacy of our race. Since the dawn of our race, we have kept in here the writings of great kings and scholars. Songs, stories, legends and our culture has written proof within those shelves. Human writings can also be found here. They may live short lives but they are creative. None of the elves can be found here – or there is very little of it."

"They guard secrets jealously," agreed Arya. "It's not like anyone would want to replicate them."

Katrina broke into a smile. She wished she could find stories of heroes and Riders. "How long may we stay."

"As long as you like," Orik said happily. "I want to catch up on my reading too. Come to me if you want to ask any questions, especially about the writing of my people. I would be glad to answer them."

Katrina browsed through the shelves, surprised that dwarves used the same runes as humans. She picked up books with interesting titles and covers. She eventually found an interesting legend about a silver dragon egg that hatched for an orphan girl who eventually married a king. She skimmed the graceful writing when Roran sidled beside her and sat down with a thick book about the genealogy of the former human kings.

"Looks interesting," Katrina said, not knowing what else to say.

"It is," Roran said. "For instance, did you know that King Galbatorix is actually the illegitimate brother of the last true king? This means that he actually had a claim to the throne should the king die but the king's son went missing so it means that the real king still has some descendants running around. Though Galbatorix would probably smite them to bits before they could contest him for the right to the throne."

"That would be interesting – if they even knew that they're descended from the last true king of Alagaesia."

Unfamiliar footsteps approached nearby. Roran gazed at Katrina, his handsome face marred by a small frown. He raised a finger to his lips and they returned their books to the right shelves. They scooted around a few tables and joined Eragon, Murtagh and Arya. A few minutes later, Nasuada appeared from behind a rack of scrolls. Another set joined the original footsteps.

_We have to look for Orik_, Arya said.

The Riders rose, senses alert for any danger. They've faced too many ambushes to feel safe. That was when the Twins rounded the corner, their dark eyes boring into the Riders' coldly. They stood shoulder to shoulder, twitching hands hidden within the thick folds of their robes. They bowed with an insolent, mocking intent.

"We have been searching for you," one said in a low, oily-smooth voice like that of the Ra'zac's.

Murtagh shuddered. "What for?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

Katrina felt Luneria's mind join with hers. _Be careful, gentle one. I do not think that they mean you well._

"We wanted to… apologize for our actions, since your meeting with Ajihad," the other Twin said scornfully. It was difficult to challenge the words, though. "We came to pay homage to you, especially since one of you is an esteemed elf and the other is Ajihad's daughter." The twins bowed once more.

Arya smiled, mischief evident on her face and the thoughts she decided to share with her companions. "Nay, great Twins, it is we who must pay homage to you. Without you, none of us could have entered Farthen Dur – not even Brom, Faolin and Nasuada." She gave them a mocking, flourishing bow.

The Twins looked irritated. They masked it with their silky smiles. "We are honored to hear that one as mighty as you would think so highly of us. We are in your debt for your kind words."

"Thank you," Arya snarled. "We will remember that when we have need of it."

The hems of their robes brushed softly against the floor as the twins moved closer. For some reason, their voices took on a more pleasant tone. "Our dear Riders, we have come here for another purpose too. The magic users here in Tronjheim are scarce, and we have formed a group. We are called Du Vrangr Gata."

"The Wandering Path, we know," Katrina said irritably. She hated the Twins and what they stood for – the dark side of the people within the Varden. "Arya said that you've got your grammar all wrong. It's supposed to be Du Gata Vrangr if you want to get it right."

"Your knowledge of the Ancient Language is most impressive, little lady. The Du Vrangr Gata has heard of your feats and we come here, hoping that you could accept our invitation of membership. Having all six of you as members would be a great honor," one Twin said. "We might also be able to assist you as well. You may have heard of how we taught Lady Himeria. Our experience with magical matters is unparalleled except by Brom and Ambassador Faolin – both of them very busy at the moment. We could guide you in matters of spellcasting, teach you a few things. We could teach you the words of power we have discovered. We don't need any repayment but if you wish to share with us scraps of your knowledge, we will be satisfied."

"And you think my students are half-wits?" a harsh voice demanded. Brom strode towards them, dressed in black robes. "They will never apprentice themselves to scum like you, just to learn more about words that you are not fit to wield. Did it anger you when you couldn't steal them from our minds?"

A Twin bowed insolently to Brom. "Forgive us, former Rider, but we wished to talk to them – not you."

Eragon stepped forward. "Brom's right."

"We are not to be trifled with, boy. Remember that a mistake in wording or estimating your strength will kill you. You may be a Rider but the two of us are still stronger than you."

_Let them think that,_ Luneria said smugly.

"They will consider your offer," snapped Brom. "I can't assure you of more than that."

One of the Twins glared at Brom while the other stared at the Riders coldly. "We will expect your answers tomorrow. Make sure it is the right one." They bowed mockingly and sauntered off.

"Those two are never up to anything good," Brom snarled once they were out of earshot. "Come, Orik will need to hear of it. You might want to return to your dragons for now while we sort things out. Those two will not stop pestering you."

Orik was reading a book on warfare. He looked up as he saw them Riders trudging behind Brom. "What happened?"

"The Twins happened," growled Roran.

The dragons were waiting for them outside Tronjheim already. _The Twins must not intimidate you,_ scolded Luneria. _We are so much more powerful than they are. But we must avoid angering them – they still are dangerous._

_I don't want them as allies._ Katrina wrapped her arms around Luneria.

_None of you do. Just tell them that you won't join Du Vrangr Gata._ The dragoness landed in her cave. _I have a bad feeling about them._

_ We should all talk. Let's meet at the bottom of the hold,_ Murtagh called out.

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**I was tuning in to the delayed telecast of Miss Universe yesterday and squealed more when Panic! at the Disco popped up than when our country's representative won 3rd runner up. It was pretty refreshing after all the tearjerking media coverage of Typhoon Haiyan.**

**So anyway, with every distraction out of the way, I might churn out longer chapters now. MIGHT. Things could very well change if my job applications get in the way. I'm really unhappy with my current work since it feels like I'm wasting the 4 years I slaved off in college since I was 16. I'm working like I haven't graduated from college (which is a bad thing in my country) and barely earn enough for my travel everyday.**

**As always, I appreciate your reviews, comments, reactions, everything! :)I'm not sure about what Brisingr (the sword) stands for exactly, but I could very well say that the six Riders are flames of hope right now. XD  
**

**I love you guys! Reviews are always welcome 3**


	25. Interlude

**No. I don't own IC. Zippit.**

**I'm really, really sorry for not updating sooner, but I was horribly, emotionally distraught for the past few days and therefore only wrote the entire chapter in one sitting today since I'm finally fine!**

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**Chapter 25: Interlude**

The gemstone floor of the dragonhold glimmered dully as Riders convened. The dragons hovered over them watchfully as they huddled together in the rosy light of Isidar Mithrim. Nasuada watched with a smile as Murtagh strode around them, his old, worn-out red cloak trailing behind him. His red-brown eyes surveyed the others. Though he looked similar to his twin, there were still subtle differences such as their eye colors and Murtagh's more angular face.

"So you're staring at him?" Katrina asked with a smile.

"Well, he has something to say!" Nasuada told her quickly. She felt her cheeks warming up as the others' eyes fell upon her.

Murtagh raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile playing upon his lips. "As I was saying, we need to look out for those Twins. We can't trust them at all but we can't risk offending them by turning down their offer. What must we do?"

"We will still have to decline the offer, of course," Roran said, frowning. His eyes roamed around worriedly. "If we use the wrong words in declining then it might anger them and cause these people to make things difficult for us."

"I know those Twins," Nasuada offered. "We must do it without harming their pride. Let me do it, I am sure that they will listen to me. If not, then I can always ask Father to intervene on our behalf."

"Your father has already done so much for us," Arya said. "Wouldn't it be too much to ask?"

"I am his daughter. And one of the Riders – the last flame of hope for the Varden. Asking him to keep the Twins away from us, thus letting us work better for the needs of the group, would not be such a big request for him to grant."

_If it helps, then we'll eat them if they come close to harming any of you little ones,_ Saphira said, swooping lazily above them.

On their third day, they met up early with Orik. The dwarf looked uneasy as he met them by the gates of Tronjheim. "Ajihad and Brom have agreed that you must come to the training fields to be tested. Ajihad have heard of your lessons from Brom but he still wishes to have your abilities assessed properly by some members of the Varden."

"Nobody enters the Varden without a display of abilities," Nasuada confirmed. She felt her sword, Gryning, against her hip and it made her confident. "Very well, we'll show my father the extent of our training with Brom."

"Where will we be doing this test?" Katrina asked nervously.

Orik smiled grimly. "We have a training field half a mile behind Tronjheim. There's a big space there, enough for both humans and dwarves to train."

_We will come,_ Solaris said, landing beside Orik. The other dragons followed suit, displaying different signs of unease.

"Do you wish to follow?" the dwarf asked disapprovingly, unable to hear the dragons' thoughts. "It might not be a good idea with all the people training there. You will attract attention."

Askanir lowered his head, giving the dwarf his biggest glare. He began to growl, smoke curling out of his nostrils. _We will come, little two-legs._ Upon Orik's agreement, the matter was settled and they headed for the training grounds.

The sounds of battle greeted them as they set foot in the training field. The clangs of swords banging against shields, thumps of arrows striking their straw targets and cracking staffs could be heard. It was chaotic and yet some sort of order came out from it. Groups of armed people trained in various weapons, and Nasuada swore that she saw one with pitchforks. She made a note to tell her father about it and ask him if it would be a useful weapon.

A tall, bearded man strode towards them, most of his head and shoulders covered by a thick mail coif. He wore clothing made of oxhide, patches of hair still on it. His very huge sword hung across his back as he gave Orik a smile. "You've been away for too long, Knurla Orik, I have nobody to spar with anymore," he said as a greeting.

"Oei, that's because you try to bruise people all over with that giant sword of yours," replied Orik.

"Except you! Your size is an advantage." The man smiled. He nodded to Nasuada. "You've caused quite a ruckus when you ran away. You even took the Ambassador's sister and her bodyguards with you! Most impressive."

Nasuada smiled. "Ah, thank you. Friends, this is Frederic, master of weapons."

Frederic nodded with another of his big smiles. "I'm here to see what you six can do. How strong are you?"

"Fairly strong," Arya said confidently. "I'm too young to be as strong as typical elf warriors but it's sufficient for battle and magic."

"Magic has no place for Frederic," Orik said with a chuckle.

"He's right." Frederic's eyes roamed around the six Riders. "I'm sure none of you served in an army before, meaning that your fights never lasted for more than a few minutes. We have to know if you can hold up in battles lasting for hours – or weeks if we're facing a siege. You seem proficient enough with swords and bows. What else can you use?"

"Well, we can fight with our hands, right? Fistfights, hair-pulling, that kind of fighting," Eragon said quickly.

"Good one! Let's see your skills with the bow and then we can clear up some space for good, old-fashioned swordplay."

That was when the Twins arrived with fast and deliberate steps. They wore matching black robes that day. Compared to bulky Frederic and the well-armored warriors training around them, they looked frail. As usual, they looked around with a look of arrogance.

Orik gripped the war ax from his belt. "Barzul."

"What are the two of you doing here?" Frederic snarled. "I thought I already told you to stay away from this area."

"Ajihad requested us to test them in their proficiency in magic before you exhaust them with that useless banging of thise bits of metal," one Twin said dryly.

Nasuada felt her hand fly to her sword hilt, and was thankful that she wasn't the only one. Even gentle Katrina had a cold, angry look in her eyes. "Can't someone else test us?"

The other Twin sniffed. "No one else is powerful enough," he snapped. "Now come with us."

Saphira was growling as they followed the Twins to an empty corner of the field. Eragon put an arm around her neck to silence her. His look said it all. He was uneasy and he didn't trust the Twins at all.

It was what everyone felt. Even Nasuada didn't like the Twins, and she grew up with them always lurking around her father. She could still remember them watching her and Himeria when they were little, and they always scared her. Himeria was brave enough to always pester them with questions which they always entertained for some reason. Maybe, just maybe, she could understand Himeria's fascination with magic and power.

"We have to stop them from going too far," Frederic muttered behind them.

"I know," replied Orik, "but I can't interfere again. King Hrothgar made it clear that he won't be able to help me if I step out of the line again."

_Are you worrying?_ Solaris asked with amusement.

_The Twins might know more words and techniques,_ Nasuada said. _And they have a lot of experience. We haven't finished our training yet._

Solaris snorted. _There are two of them and twelve of us. What can they do that we can't do in a better way? We're all together here – Riders and dragons._

The Twins turned to face them. "Young Riders, have you thought of our offer?" they asked. "How do you answer us?"

Nasuada braced herself as her fellow Riders' eyes fell upon her. "No. Forgive us, but we cannot accept such an honor for now."

The Twins eyes darkened. "Very well." They bent down and began to draw a pentagram on the ground. They stepped in the middle and gave the Riders a cold look. "What we ask is fairly simple. You must complete every task we ask of you."

* * *

Murtagh shifted uneasily, edging closer to Thorn. He could feel the tense thoughts of the others at the very edge of his mind. He reached out to his dragon. _I shouldn't be afraid._

_ It is normal for little two-legs to be afraid, but you shouldn't. Not really._ Thorn lowered his head in anticipation for the events unfurling before them. _You have me and the others. We're stronger than anything that the blasted Twins could ever hope for._

One of the Twins reached into his robe and produced six smooth pebbles. He set them on the ground, one in front of each Rider. "Lift these," he said quietly. "Lift them to eye level."

Murtagh remembered his frustrations at the beginning of their magic lessons. It felt like a lifetiem ago. Struggling to lift simple pebbles was a thing of the past. He could do much more now – so much more. He could feel the others' determination when they spoke as one. "Stenr reisa."

Before the pebble lifted halfway up, a force began to resist their efforts. If nothing was done then their strength would wane before they get to the more challenging tasks. Thorn joined minds with Murtagh automatically. _They'll have none of that._ The pebble jerked upwards, stopping a few inches above the Twins' eyes.

_They're deliberately trying to make us fail. _Murtagh was furious. How dare they? Were they trying to make the Riders look weak, Brom look incompetent? _How powerful are they to intercept efforts from six Riders – one who is even an elf?_

_I don't know. But we have to be more wary of them._

The Twins required them to do various exercises, attempting to thwart the Riders who always prevailed. Slowly, the challenges became more and more difficult. They realized earlier that the Twins were trying to learn more words of the Ancient Language and so limited their vocabulary to the basics. This infuriated the Twins, who showed no signs of stopping even after an hour has passed. Nobody asked for a bit of rest, afraid that this would give them some satisfaction.

Finally, the Twins straightened up together, their dark eyes cold and hard. "We want you to do something simple enough for a competent spellcaster," they said together. One of them procured a silver ring. "It would be enough for one of you to do it – summon the essence of silver."

_What are we supposed to do?_ Murtagh asked the other Riders in surprise. _That might be one of the more advanced magic that we're going to learn in Ellesmera, not from Brom._

_ Invoking the essence of an object involves simply speaking its name but I'm not sure we're strong enough for magic that pure…_ Arya looked tense as her green eyes glared at the Twins. _What are they trying to do?_

Before they could come any further, a clear voice yelled, "Stop it!" Brom stalked towards them, his eyes flashing in anger. "How dare you? Asking them to do something which only masters can do? They have proven themselves competent in the level of their studies. Frederic and Orik has seen it with their own eyes. Is that not enough for you?"

Faolin and a dark-skinned young man who looked like Nasuada ran after him. The training field fell quiet at the turn of events. The elven ambassador looked irritated at the Twins. "Truly, it is a shame that the best spellcasters in the Varden do many things that stain the name of our organization," he said in a soft voice. He pointed a hand to the silver ring. "Arget."

A ghostly image of the ring shimmered beside him, glowing white hot and pure. The Twins let out a cry and ran. Brom nodded to Faolin and the boy. Frederic strode towards them. "I wasn't sure how to drive them off," the big warrior said with a smile. "Good to see you, Brom, Ambassador Faolin, Lord Melikir."

The boy called Melikir nodded timidly. "I wanted to wish my sister and her fellow Riders a good luck for their assessment. I had no idea that the Twins would be up to no good once more."

"They are always up to no good," countered Faolin. Distaste was written all over the fair elven lord's face. "Frederic, my good man, Ajihad asked me to duel with the young Riders here while you assess their skills and report them to him – if that would be fine with you."

"Oh, very! It would be easier to see their skills and styles," agreed Frederic. He seemed curious of the elf's skills too.

Brom caught Murtagh's eye. There was something strange about their mentor – like something bothered him. Did he know about Selena, and who the twins' father was? Before Murtagh could ask him though, Eragon elbowed him.

"Weren't you listening?" the younger twin asked, arms crossed. "Faolin is asking if you would wish to go first."

Murtagh was caught of guard. _Why would he want to start with me? Roran and Arya are the best swordfighters – can't they duel first?_

_ Apparently not,_ Thorn snorted. _Now go, brave one. Face the elf._

Frowning, Murtagh pulled out Eldsvard, the red blade glinting dully. He uttered a quiet spell to dull the blade, as Faolin watchedh im approach. "You asked to duel one of the least talented swordsmen among our new Order," the red Rider said gently. "I hope you won't be disappointed."

Faolin smiled pleasantly. "You shouldn't be too harsh on yourself. After all, your teacher is Brom! Now, be ready." He brandished his slender elven sword with the hand of an expert swordsman.

None of the combatants moved though many people circled them, stopping most activities in the field. Murtagh recalled the way that the sparring sessions with Brom started all the time – with both combatants watching the other one warily for a few seconds. He knew that a fully matured elf was strong, and that the Riders were lucky that Arya was young enough for her strength to be equal to a human teen.

Faolin suddenly slashed towards his ribs, and Murtagh could barely raise his red blade to block the attack. Their sparking swords met and Murtagh felt Eldsvard batted away like a fly being swatted. Faolin didn't take advantage of it though, and spun to the other side, trying to hit it. The elf's strength and speed was surprising, and the young Rider could think of no technique to use against him.

_Even the weakest mature elf can easily outmatch a human,_ Thorn warned as Murtagh ducked and evaded a blow to his head. _You've got no chance of beating him – and Durza. I believe that he's trying to see your skill with the blade._

_Right._ Murtagh tried his best to gain the upper hand by trying a random combination of his fighting techniques but Faolin could thwart every one of them. His arms began to hurt as the elf continued to counter and parry every move, until his exhaustion gave way and an especially strong sweep of Faolin's blade made him fall to his back with a groan.

The elf's blade was pressed close to his neck. "Dead! You pass," chirped Faolin. He raised his blade and helped Murtagh stand up. He pointed his weapon to Katrina. "Now I wish to see your abilities, Katrina."

Katrina exchanged a terrified look with Murtagh as the boy moved towards the other Riders and the girl stood before the elf. The silver blade of Skymning seemed to ripple as she unsheathed it. "Ambassador Faolin, don't be too hard on me, I'm not as good as the others."

"Preposterous! Brom accepts nothing but excellence from his students."

"True enough," grunted Brom. He put a hand on Murtagh's shoulder. "Are you sore?"

"A little," Murtagh admitted. He rubbed his arms tiredly. "You were right. A mature elf is extremely strong."

"But you will reach that level of strength someday, lad. Now, something seems to be bothering you today."

At that moment, Murtagh remembered meeting his mother the previous day and his sudden suspicion that Brom knew something about the twins' father. For a few seconds, he watched Katrina duck and try to slash Faolin's abdomen. "We met our mother," he finally said.

Brom raised an eyebrow. "Selena? I know that she was here briefly and…"

"You could have told us."

"I didn't even know that she was here – I only saw her leaving," Brom said quickly. "I'm sorry. I could have at least told you that she's a member of the Varden but she asked me not to."

Eragon joined the conversation, a cold look in his eyess. "Everyone likes keeping secrets from us," he said. "But do you know who our father is?"

Brom sighed. He looked old – old and tired and worn out. A century's burden suddenly lined his otherwise younger face. "Forgive me. She asked me to swear an oath in the Ancient Language. I cannot tell you. She wanted to do it herself when the time came. But let me tell you this. Your father loves you a lot more than you will ever give him credit for."

"C-can't you tell us more?" Eragon looked at the sparring field, where Katrina lost balance and met the same defeat as Murtagh. "You don't have to name him. I just want to know what he's like."

"Not only that." Murtagh caught Thorn's ruby eye, and the dragon nodded. "We want to know if the bastard is alive."

Brom flinched slightly. "Watch your words," he said in amusement. "Let's see… he doesn't have enough money to raise the family that he wished for. He couldn't even raise a family since he was always on the run for crimes to the Empire. He used to live here – in Tronjheim itself. He had to leave for a mission and was never back ever since. But I believe that he's alive."

Eragon unsheathed Kylskada as Faolin motioned to him. "Enough of this talk for now." He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Do your best, little brother," Murtagh said with a smile.

Eragon nodded and smiled back. "Of course."

* * *

**Hello, lovely readers and sorry for a short chappie. For the anon reviewer who asked, I'm from the slightly northern part of the Philippines. :)**

**Oh, and someone asked about Eragon and Murtagh having blue and red-brown eyes. Uhm, I must have deleted that part from the introductory chapters but I did mean for them to be fraternal same-gender twins, like a few kids from my old schoo. :) And I think they're both adorable.**

**About the 3 sets of twins (Eragon and Murtagh, Nasuada and Himeria, and the villainous Twins), I was kind of doing a bit of yin and yang motif with them, like E and M being similar yet different, N and H being waaaay different and the Twins just being too creepy and single-minded. :) That's also how I came up with Murtagh and Eragon's fire and ice swords for the future parts. Murtagh is generally more level-headed, yet there is a fiery personality hidden up inside it, while Eragon is more passionate and impulsive yet also has a rational part buried inside it. Did that make any sense? XD I do have explanations for the future motifs of their future swords ;)**

**Who do you think are the twin boys' father?**

**Saphira is demanding reviews because she had a bet with Thorn and Firnen!**


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